Kiss Me Freely
by Emerald-Kisses
Summary: Sequel to MCMM. As lovers in a biased world, Hermione and Draco strive to fight against the war that was caused by their love, as friends and family fight to 'rescue' them from one another. Will their love survive this last year at Hogwarts?D/Hr.Chp25 up
1. New Companions & Conspiring Slytherins

**Chapter 1**

**Newfound Companions and Conspiring Slytherins**

"_Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end" – Seneca, 1__st__ century A.D. Roman philosopher_

To say that life was perfect was not necessarily speaking the truth. To say that their love was absolute was not false. But to say that it would be accepted by all was something that remained undetermined and in doubt. It was difficult to say anything concrete about their relationship; to some, it was a beautiful, wondrous thing, and to others, it was forbidden and worthy of the most horrendous possible consequences.

To them, it was perfect, it was absolute, and, so long as they had each other, it did not matter what everyone else would think. However, it had to remain as such; to them, for them, and with them. Nobody else could know about their secret life and love, they were Romeo and Juliet, from two different classes, two different social groups, and neither group could be aware of their feelings.

Unless they wanted a war to break out.

It had been a full week, one full week since they had admitted their love and consummated it. One full week where life was pleasant and enjoyable, where they could enjoy each other in the silence of their Tower, in secret on the grounds, and in plain view when nobody was around. They didn't have to worry about being caught; those who knew kept it secret, and those who were curious were doubtful and just that; curious and nothing else.

Nobody questioned them, nobody asked them what they thought, and everybody remained in the dark.

They knew that it couldn't go on like this; that eventually, once the flood of students returned to the school; they would have to confront the situation, to confront their friends and classmates. A war would break out, between those who were unforgiving and those who loved no matter what.

For now, they revelled in the peace and quiet of their world, enjoyed every lasting minute of the silence before the storm.

At least, there used to be silence…

"Do I really have to go?"

"Yes! I told you, we got an invite and it would be rude not to accept!"

"Honestly?"

"Honestly!"

"But I don't want to!!"

"Draco Malfoy, you will go to the Gryffindor New Year's Party and you _will_ enjoy yourself!"

"Can Blaise come?"

"Seamus already invited him."

"Maybe."

Hermione Granger ran a hand through her mussed hair, unable to contain her irritation for much longer. She stood in the kitchen, looking more than flustered as her lover, a certain blond-haired git, huffed and puffed by the living room.

"For goodness sake!" she cried, throwing her hands into the air. "You received an invite, an extension of inter-house unity, and you're bitching because it's a _Gryffindor_ party? You've been sitting at the Gryffindor table for the past week! You're an immature git!

"Am not," he whined, pouting as he crossed his arms. "I don't want to go because that Creevey kid will be there taking pictures!"

"So? It's a party! We're supposed to enjoy ourselves! Dennis is allowed to take as many pictures as he wants!"

"Well…I'm still not going," Draco snapped, moving to collapse on the couch, picking up a book and opening it as though he had just spoken the final, concluding words.

Sighing heavily, she grabbed a nearby wooden spoon and made her way over to the couch, ready to use the utensil as a weapon. "In the name of Merlin and every other great wizard in the world, you _will_ go to this party, or so help you God, I will harm you."

The jerk didn't even lower his book, hell, he didn't even chance a glance in her direction. "No."

"Why?" she shouted, waving the spoon around erratically, unable to contain her frustration.

"I thought you didn't like parties."

"Don't avoid the subject," she snapped, tapping him on the head with the spoon. "I'm going because you're going and it will promote inter-house unity. Besides, it would look suspicious if we both spent New Year's alone in the Tower."

"Ow!" he cried, rubbing his head as he jerked the book around, intending to use it as both a shield and a weapon. "What was that for?"

"For being a prat," she replied, glaring at him. "Now give me the real answer or I'm using this on your precious mini-Malfoy."

He literally lowered the book to his crotch, tenting it so that it would provide some protection against the evil banshee standing in front of him. Pouting, he looked at the fire and avoided her gaze as he mumbled out; "Because I won't be able to kiss you."

Her eyes softened at his words, and she couldn't help but reach out and pinch his cheek as his cheeks mottled from embarrassment.

"Don't," he grumbled, pushing her hand away.

Pushing his book aside as she placed the spoon on the coffee table, she slowly crawled on top of him to rest her head on his chest. Tilting slightly, she looked up at his surprised gaze and grinned broadly.

"You can be so cute at times."

"Cute?" he spluttered, debating whether he should shove her off or not as punishment for her choice of words. "Malfoys are not cute! We are fierce, we are powerful, we are sexy and handsome, are anything _but_ cute!"

She rolled her eyes and let out a loud sigh. "Draco, honestly, cute isn't an insult in any way or form."

"Cute means adorable. Men are _not_ adorable. I am _not_ adorable. I am a man, and men are powerful and strong and handsome and _not_ cute."

"I get it," she huffed, digging her elbow into his ribs. "But, cute doesn't mean you're weak."

"Teddy bears are cute. Girls are cute. Kittens and puppy dogs and things weak and cuddly are cute. I am not weak or cuddly, so I am not cute," he said rather loudly, crossing his arms over his chest, blocking her view of his indignant expression.

"No, you are someone who gets pathetically insulted over every little thing I say," she sighed, reaching over to pick up the spoon from the table.

"What are you doing?'

"Nothing."

"I hate that sickly sweet voice you use…it's creepy."

"I hate that you refuse to go to the New Year's party just because its hosted by Gryffindors."

Rubbing his face, he rolled his eyes heavenwards and let out a loud breath. "Back to this again, are we? I told you, I'm not going because I won't be able to kiss you and I'm afraid of getting Gryffindor cooties."

"Cooties are a myth told to little boys so that they don't touch little girls inappropriately," Hermione pointed out, sitting back to rest her bum on his shins. "And you _will_ go to this party. As you said, I usually don't go, but it would be nice to get out of this stuffy room. Besides, you're the one who's been telling me to 'let loose' and relax."

"I'm not going and that's final."

_Whack_!

"What the fuck was that for?" he shouted, grabbing his right knee that had just been beat with the spoon.

"For being a senseless git," she snapped. "Now stop being such a child and go to the damn party. We're wasting more time listening to you whine than we are thinking of what we could bring!"

"Bring? What the hell are we supposed to bring?"

"Seamus and Dean said that we could bring food or drinks if we want, since we have more access to the kitchens than other students. I think what they mean is that they want a lot of Firewhiskey," she finished with a sigh and roll of her eyes.

"Well, they can get their own Firewhiskey because I'm not going," he snapped, just managing to dodge the next swing of the spoon. "Stop that!"

"No!" she shouted, pressing more of her weight down on his legs to stop him from moving. "Not until you grow up and agree to go to this damn party. Hell, Blaise is going! Stop acting like Ron and quit your whining."

"I am nothing like that ginger Weasel," he pouted, letting out a loud curse as the spoon hit his thigh. "Fuck! Stop it!!"

"Or what? I won't stop until you agree to go; you have no choice. You either get beaten to death by my wooden spoon or you go to the damn party."

"I love it when you swear and threaten me," he purred trying for another tactic at distracting her.

This earned him another smack with the spoon, but a lot closer to his most precious body part.

"STOP!"

"Go to the party!"

"No!"

"I'm going to hit your balls and you will _not_ be happy!" she growled, raising the spoon.

"No! I refuse!"

She began to lower the spoon.

"Wait! Wait! Fuck…I'll go. On one condition."

She paused mid-swing and looked down at him. "What's that?"

"You let me see your old dorm."

"Pervert."

"I know."

* * *

It wasn't fair. Hell, nothing was fair. Why was he stuck here, with his bloody family, when she was at school, so far away? Why was he being forced to endure such pain? Couldn't they see that they belonged together? That he couldn't stand being away from her for much longer?

Ron stomped around his room, cursing softly under his breath.

She had refused him.

That meant she chose the Death Eater over him, didn't it?

Digging his fingers into his scalp, he stopped in front of his window, watching as George, Bill, Charlie, Sarafina, Angelina, and Tonks were engaged in an all-out snowball war.

What did it mean?

She said that she wasn't ready, said something that if she was ready, she'd let him know.

What did it mean?

Did it…could it mean that she was seeing someone else and she was lying to him? Did it mean what exactly as she said? Or was she just pulling him along, making false promises only to laugh at him in the end?

Everyone liked to laugh at him…

They used to laugh at him so much, whenever he was angry, irritated, embarrassed…in any way or form with any and all reasons. They liked to laugh at him.

Well, Hermione wouldn't laugh at him.

Rubbing his face, he sighed loudly and turned away from the festive scene outside, moving to sit on the edge of his bed.

He had to stop this madness; he was thinking such foul thoughts of a woman who had been nothing but kind to him. Maybe…maybe he'd been too forward. He had probably pushed too much…

Damn it, it was probably his fault that she was avoiding him; he was trying to force her into a relationship when she wasn't ready!

Cursing, he stood back up and began to pace anew, hating himself for being unable to control his actions and emotions. Hating himself for being such a git.

Something had to change, he realized. Something…it would probably have to begin with him, right? He would have to change something about himself so that he was more attractive to her. He couldn't just force himself on her; she was delicate, too kind for that, too weak to withstand him. She tried, he knew that she tried, but he saw her confusion, her fading confidence, and her inner debates in her eyes. He saw that she was almost ready to give up, to just throw herself into his arms and profess her love for him.

He just had to give her a good reason to throw all worries to the wind, that's all. She was a logical person, right? She needed a logical reason for being with him, that's all. He had to give her that reason, had to improve on his tactics.

She would see…in the end, he would show her that it was the right thing being with him. It would be the proper thing, the correct thing.

She would make the right choice in the end.

* * *

Throughout their lives at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hermione Granger was the person everyone least expected to show up to parties. She certainly received the invites; they were never lost on the way nor did she neglect to respond, but she was always the first to refuse.

So, to say that her fellow classmates were flabbergasted that she, of all people, would be coming to the Gryffindor New Year's party was an understatement.

The words 'floored,' 'shocked,' and 'hell hath officially frozen over' filled the minds of the Gryffindors who had heard the news.

Hermione, on the other hand, simply could not understand why everyone was overreacting.

"I just agreed to go to a party," she sighed over breakfast in the Great Hall. "I don't understand what the big deal is."

Seamus rolled his eyes at her naivety, while Dean chuckled through a mouthful of breakfast sausage. Draco and Blaise, who had officially installed themselves at the Gryffindor table for the remainder of the holidays – despite some grumbling from a few Slytherins and Gryffindors who did not approve –, were almost as oblivious as Hermione. They, however, understood one thing that she did not.

"Rumour has it that you never go to parties," Blaise pointed out as he dumped various foods onto his plate. He seemed to have a fondness for scrambled eggs.

"And?" Hermione asked, ignoring her cooling porridge. "I don't understand. What does me not going to any parties have anything to do with this? Is it really such a big deal?"

"A huge deal," Seamus said, thankfully swallowing his food before speaking. "Ye see, ye always refused 'cause ye were too busy studying and focusing on school work. Now, out of the blue, ye're agreeing to go to a party. It's fishy."

"It's not fishy," she sighed, twirling her spoon around. "I'm allowed to go a party; it's not the end of the world."

"We're not saying that you _can't_ go to a party," Dean explained, "we're saying that you _never_ went to a party. You _always_ refused every single invitation, and even if you did go, you were always in that damn corner reading a book."

Draco glared across the table at Hermione, making sure that she saw the seriousness in his eyes. "If you go into a damn corner and read a book, I swear, I will do something that will make you regret it. You cannot possibly leave me alone with these Gryffindors."

"Don't worry, mate," Seamus said. "I may have hated ye for a few years, but I did hear the stories about ye during the war."

Frowning over his toast, Draco glanced over to the Irish boy with a questioning gaze. "What stories?"

"That ye saved my mum from some Death Eaters." Seamus spoke the words with sincere gratitude and a thick layer of pride. "I heard a few other things, too, how ye rebelled against ye're father and family, how ye fought with the Order in secret. For some people, it might not take back all of the things ye've done in the past, but for me, it makes ye acceptable as a human being."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Some people might ignore the deeds you've done, they might think that you're the same old Malfoy, but we know the truth. I know you refused to tell Bellatrix who Hermione, Harry and Ron really were. You never said a thing. That makes you more of a hero than most people are nowadays. Definitely more of a hero than I am."

Draco didn't know whether he wanted to smile or smack the two boys. He had to admit, hearing them say that, hearing Gryffindors, the sworn enemies of Slytherins, say such things, made his heart leap with joy. Maybe there were people who would accept his relationship with Hermione, people who would finally accept him for who he was, not who he was.

In the end, however, he couldn't just break down and cry in front of them; it was unseemly and unmanly. But he wanted to hug them, in spite of their past differences, and thank them for being so accepting.

Sighing softly, he looked at the two with a smile in his eyes. "I hate to admit," he began, "but it means a lot for people like you to say such things. I know that I haven't always been on the front for setting up inter-house relations, hell, I've been the major forerunner for destroying them, but…people change. I'm not the boy I used to be, and some people don't even care to think about it. So, I suppose the best thing to say, although it's really corny is…thanks." He then added a shrug and his grin broadened. "You guys aren't bad, for a couple of Gryffindors."

Hermione swore that her eyes swam with tears; things were speeding up so quickly, everyone was so much more accepting. She hadn't believed that such a thing would happen, never once fathomed the idea that Seamus, one of the most stubborn boys in their year, would actually accept two Slytherins. Especially Draco.

It was beyond wonderful.

"What about me?"

Everyone glanced towards Blaise, who was giving the boys a look that said he expected them to say amazing, beautiful things about him.

Hermione bit back a chuckle at Blaise's expectant gaze and waited on a bated breath for Seamus and Dean's reaction.

"You were alright to begin with," Dean admitted. "Never said anything, was never rude, but you were never polite either. You were kind of…neutral. Now that I think of it, I don't think I have ever had any reason to hate you aside from the fact that you're a Slytherin."

"Dean's right," piped up Seamus, "ye were always the quiet Slytherin who avoided the fights. We just hated ye 'cause ye were Slytherin. But, ye'll still have to be initiated."

"Initiated?" came three voices, and the Gryffindor boys looked over to Hermione in amazement.

"Yes, we have to initiate the two of them into the Gryffindor House," Dean answered. "We'll pound the Gryffindor pride into their heads so much that they'd rather die before insulting our blood again." He turned to Draco and Blaise, who were looking rather pale at the idea of being beaten. "Don't worry, you'll be waving the red and gold flags soon enough."

"Dean…Seamus…I, uh…you know, even if they weren't always very nice, they never actually physically attacked us, besides from Harry and Ron, but you know…in most of those situations Harry and Ron started it but…" Hermione stammered, praying that they weren't using inter-house unity as an excuse to beat the shit out of Blaise and Draco. "Really…they only said things…I mean, Draco wasn't very nice for a long period but don't you think that rebelling against his family is more than enough payment? I mean, hell, he even fought alongside Harry and I against a few Death Eaters…I mean, I really don't see the point to…initiating them…"

The Gryffindor boys burst into laughter, watching as she fumbled for words that might redeem the Slytherin men.

"Hermione," Dean laughed out, "we're not going to be hurting them! We'll just be embarrassing them a little, singing a few Quidditch songs here, wearing the Gryffindor colours there, just a little bit of this and that."

"Ye don't have ta worry," Seamus said through his laughter. "We don't actually wanna hurt 'em."

Blinking rapidly at her housemates, she watched as some colour returned to the faces of her newfound friend and lover, and debated over whether she should believe Seamus and Dean or not.

"You promise you won't physically harm them in any way or form?"

"We know that you won't stand by even if we tried," Dean replied. "You're Head Girl, we can't expect you to just sit back and watch us hurt people. Besides, we don't plan on hurting them anyway."

Gnawing on her lip hesitantly, she debated briefly as to whether or not she should trust them, before letting out a sigh of resignation. "Okay. I trust you two."

Seamus grinned a thanks her way before digging back into his breakfast, wanting to finish it before it disappeared. Dean sent her a wink before re-establishing his conversation with Blaise.

Draco, sitting across from Hermione, smiled at her as he reached down to his plate, picking up a ripe strawberry. He continued to grin at her as he placed the strawberry into his mouth, biting into the sweet fruit as she watched on. The way he ate it, she swore she tasted the fruit in her mouth, the delightful sweetness, with a tang of bitterness, that was a strawberry, the way it felt soft and yet hard against her teeth, how it broke with ease and seemed to melt on her tongue.

Swallowing thickly, she trying returning her attention to her porridge, but her spoon fell with a loud clatter as she felt a foot trailing up her leg to rub against her thigh.

Lifting her eyes, she sent a glare in Draco's direction, wishing that she could rub the Cheshire cat-like smile off of his face. He simply shrugged his shoulders, sending a knowing look her way, before picking up a piece of bacon.

"Y'all right, 'Mione?"

She didn't even turn to face Seamus; Draco had somehow removed his shoe and was rubbing his foot along the inside of her thigh, toes just tickling her center each time his foot passed by. Shivers went racing down her spine as liquid heat poured between her thighs, threatening to overflow at the mere look the blond was giving her.

"Just dropped my spoon," she replied, thanking whatever reigning entity there was for allowing her voice to remain strong.

Nodding, the redhead turned to start a conversation with Gryffindor fifth year, leaving Hermione to focus entirely on Draco's ministrations.

She wanted to ask him what had gotten into him, why he was doing this all of a sudden, but all she could think about was the way his foot rubbed against her and how much she suddenly wanted to feel him all over her, flesh on flesh, caught into a moment of pure ecstasy.

She was vividly aware of the students surrounding them, acutely aware of their voices as they filled the halls, but she could not hear a singling thing they said. Each time his toes rubbed against her center, all sound became a loud buzzing noise, an irritating background sound that she wanted to get rid of just as much as she wanted to leap across the table, jump on Draco, and ride him until she was consumed by the fire of pleasure.

He was smiling that smug smile of his, grinning at her as he ate, knowing fully well just what his touch was doing to her, just how it was affecting her senses. And he, being the bastard he was, just kept doing it, wishing that it could be her bare flesh he was touching.

Suddenly, her face changed, almost morphing right before his very eyes. One minute, she was a woman fighting back pleasure, trying to hide the glazing of her eyes, and the next, her eyes half-shuttered, lips curling into a sultry smile that caused his hardened cock to twitch excitedly. Need rushed through his veins and he found himself hurrying to slide his foot back into his shoe.

Licking her lips, enjoying the faint flavour of porridge on them, she watched as his patience switched into impatience, a feverish look sliding into his eyes as he scrambled to get to his feet and out of the Great Hall as soon as possible.

Clearing his throat, he fiddled with the collar of his shirt and slowly stood up, sending her a knowing look. "I'm afraid that Hermione and I have some Head duties to attend to," he said to their companions.

Seamus waved them off as Dean nodded. "It's okay," the Irish boy replied. "Go off and yell at some little kids."

Nodding, Draco left before he could examine the knowing look Blaise was sending him, along with the faint smile that flitted across the man's lips. He didn't want to know what else Blaise knew.

Hermione took one last sip of her juice, needing to moisten her parched throat, before nodding in agreement. Scrambling to her feet, she said her goodbyes to the others and hurried out of the hall after Draco.

She had barely made it out of the hallway before her back was shoved against a hard, cold surface, lips crushing down on hers. Her mind went haywire as his flavour filled her mouth, a delicious mixture of strawberries, slightly salty bacon, and a minty taste that was oh-so Draco. His hands gripped her face, lips practically crushing hers as he kissed her into insanity.

They regretted it the instant they pulled away, wishing that they could lose themselves in each other at that very moment, heedless of what the others might do if they walked out and found them snogging each other senseless. He wanted to keep tasting her, to keep delving his tongue into her mouth and licking at her, unable to get enough of the delicious flavour that was Hermione.

"Tower?" she gasped out, reaching forward to pull his bottom lip into her mouth, suckling on it. Her abdomen clenched in response as he let out a groan of pleasure.

"First damn closet we find," he hissed back, grabbing her hand and dragging her towards the staircase.

They couldn't help it; they just couldn't get enough of each other. It was, Hermione realized far later, going to be very difficult once everyone got back. She knew, just as he did, that, no matter what life threw in their way, they would push back and survive.

* * *

She could not believe what she was seeing; first, there was Christmas Day. Those two idiots had actually had the gall to sit with the Gryffindors. Now…now they were actually eating breakfast with them. Not only that, but they had spent the entire past week at the table, striking conversations with those Muggle-lovers. What in the world was going on? What had happened in the past month that suddenly turned them into open-minded, happy-go-lucky Gryffindors?

Astoria Greengrass simply could not grasp the situation that was at hand. What was going on in the worlds of Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy?

Were they even aware of what they were doing? Did they even understand the implications of their actions? They were going against everything a Slytherin was supposed to believe in. They were trying to join the Gryffindors. Hell, she realized that she had barely seen Draco at all in the Slytherin House of late. Yes, she understood that he was Head Boy and that, perhaps, his Tower was far better furnished than the dungeons, but he was supposed to be a Slytherin.

She had heard the rumours from the war, had heard about how he had stood up against his father and Voldemort, how he had defended the Order in secret, while pretending to be a Death Eater. She may have not been a Death Eater, but she had not been too happy at his actions, either.

He had, essentially, told the world that he was not a Slytherin at heart; he wasn't a Pureblood.

Didn't he understand? Didn't he want to protect the things his father had given his life for? Didn't he want to keep the Pureblood tradition strong?

"Astoria?"

She turned to look at a fellow sixth year Slytherin girl, Maryse Felborne, and arched a brow in response. "Yeah?"

"Did you hear what I was saying?" the girl asked, tucking a stray blonde lock behind her ear.

"Not really," Astoria admitted, still watching as Blaise conversed with Seamus and Dean, Draco and the Gryffindor Princess long gone. If only she could hear what they were saying…

"I knew that sitting at the Gryffindor table was a bad idea," Maryse said, twirling her fork through her beans. "I tried to tell Blaise, tried to warn him that they were no good, but he didn't listen."

"I always knew that he was neutral," Astoria admitted, finally tearing her gaze away from the boys, "but I never expected him to come out and play with the Gryffindors."

"I'm more shocked by Draco," the blonde girl answered. "Before the war, he was so…like us. And now, he's so different. All he does is spend his time with the Mudblood Granger and now he's ditching the Slytherin table for Gryffindor. There's something up here."

Astoria looked at the girl, pink lips frowning as she saw the wheels working behind the green eyes of her friend. "What are you thinking?"

"Things aren't fitting; they don't make sense," Maryse said after a moment's thought. "I think the Mudblood is up to something."

"Do you think she put a spell on him or slipped him a potion?"

"It's possible."

Turning away from her friend, she ran a hand through her short black hair as she pondered over her toast. "We have to do something about this."

"I know. But what can we do?"

"We have to get him away from the Mudblood," Astoria answered after a moment. "We have to get Draco back and turn him back into the Slytherin he is."

"How? We don't have access to the Heads' Tower. If she's slipping him the potion there, then we can't possibly put an end to it," Maryse pointed out.

"I'll find a way. You forget who you're talking to; I have friends in high places. Once Pansy and my sister are back, it'll be a lot easier convincing Draco that what he's doing is wrong. Remember," she gestured with her fork, "he's heads over tails for Pansy."

Maryse frowned at the brunette's words, hardly convinced. "What about the fight they had just before vacation?"

Astoria shrugged it off as her appetite slowly returned. "It was just a lover's quarrel, I'm sure of it. You'll see, once they come back, Draco will accept her with open arms. The seduction will be easy."

"I hope that you're right," the blonde said, staring off to watch Blaise interact with the Gryffindors. "We need our Slytherin Prince back in his rightful place; we can't possibly give the title to someone like Goyle, what with Blaise gone, too."

"Daphne will get Blaise, don't worry. We'll get our Princes back, no matter what."

Maryse wasn't sure, she thought as she watched Astoria eat with vigour, whether this would turn out successful or not. Hell, she hated to admit it but…she was already getting a bad feeling about it.

* * *

Her Christmas went horribly wrong in all ways possible. First off, she got the worst sunburn in the name of all sunburns, she got horrendous gifts, and, worst of all, she did _not _receive a single gift or word of kindness and love from the one person she wanted one from most of all.

Now, on New Year's Eve, Pansy Parkinson could easily be labelled as one of the most pissed off witches in all of the Caribbean, where her family and Daphne had decided to vacation.

Daphne was seated on her bed, flipping through a copy of Witch's Fancy, a magazine that focused on anything related to a witch's, well, fancy, from dresses to attractive wizards. Pansy, all the while, was standing in a string bikini, constantly fretting at her reflection in the full-length mirror near the foot of the bed.

"Is it that bad?" she whined, not even looking at her friend.

Daphne sighed heavily and pushed several long, brown strands out of her eyes. "To be honest, it's horrendous. I can't believe you actually fell asleep while sun bathing."

"It's not my fault," the other girl replied, voice growing higher in pitch the more she whined and fretted about her burnt body. "I look like a bloody tomato!"

She flipped to the next page, looking at the variety of new dresses that would be coming into fashion for spring. "I told you," Daphne sighed, "that it wasn't a good idea to fall asleep. I warned you, told you to use a timer or an alarm, but no, you said you wouldn't fall asleep."

"It's no time to pester me," Pansy snapped, tugging at the cups of her bikini to grimace at the contrast between her pale breasts and the bright orange-red-brown of her skin. "I'm extremely pissed off at this moment."

Clambering onto the bed, lying on her side to be more comfortable as she read, Daphne arched a brow and eyed her friend. "Now, be honest, is it more because of the sunburn or is there something else that's adding to your foul mood?"

Pansy's eyes flashed with irritation and she spun around to face her friend. "You know the answer to that question, so why bother asking it?"

"Because it's fun watching you go mental," the girl replied, lowering her blue eyes back to the magazine. "Damn, brown's the new in-colour. Why couldn't it be something nicer, like green or purple? I _hate_ brown."

"Stop looking at that damn magazine! If you know the answer, then why don't you help me find a solution?" Pansy cried, moving to her dresser to pick up her wand. "Stop wasting good thinking time staring at a magazine."

"You're just upset because Draco doesn't love you."

"Don't say that!" Pansy shrieked, sparks flying out of the tip of her wand. "Don't you dare say those words!"

Sighing softly, Daphne dog-eared the page and looked up at her friend. She hated to admit it, but Pansy was a rather comical sight to behold; the reddish-brown skin, her short black hair almost-straw like from abuse due to the sun and chlorine-filled water, her hands waving about in various gestures…it was almost enough to make Daphne laugh. If it weren't for the fact that Pansy was holding a wand and Daphne's was on her dresser across the room.

"Pansy," she said softly, tucking more hair behind her ears, "you have to realize that Draco just might not feel the same way as you. I hate to say it, but it's probably why he didn't send you a present."

"It's not that at all and you know it," Pansy snapped, waving her wand. Her skin began to lighten in colour and pain faded, but it wasn't instantaneous, nor did it return to its normal colour in one shot; she would have to repeat the same anti-burn spell a few more times over the next couple of days.

"Then what's the reason? Why would he not give you a present, after you just had a huge row before leaving for vacation?" For Daphne, it was clear as day; Draco simply wasn't interested in Pansy, and his friendship with Hermione Granger, as well as Pansy's incessant Purist ideals, was definitely putting a damper on their relationship.

It had to be said; Pansy was ruining everything all on her accord.

Daphne used to have been a Purist, she used to believe that all witches and wizards ought to be Pureblooded and that not a single Muggle-Born or Half-blood should have been granted access to Hogwarts. But things change. She hated to admit it, but her ideals changed, first and foremost, out of selfishness. When she realized that Voldemort and his Death Eaters were fighting a losing battle, she feared that she would be hunted down and executed for her beliefs. She immediately switched them and, unbeknownst to Pansy and the other Slytherins, started feeding some basic information to the Order.

She remained an anonymous spy to this day; she knew that a few Death Eaters were still in hiding and although they posed little threat, she did not want to take the chance. She let everyone assume that she was still a believer of Voldemort's ways, that she still idealized a Pureblooded magical society, and she was gradually letting them know that she was less and less of a fascist.

It would take some time, and quite some skill on her part, but she would be able to eventually come out and let everyone know of her feats and decisions.

For now, however, she had to try and placate Pansy enough so that they were able to enjoy themselves that night.

"He won't give me…wait a minute. Do you remember what our row was about?" Pansy spun around, having been staring at her reflection, eyes glowing with excitement.

Daphne resisted the urge to roll her eyes and decided to amuse her friend. "To be honest, I have no clue because I wasn't present at the time; I was with my sister, shopping for our parents' gift."

Pansy waved it off as though the words were of no meaning. "It was about Granger."

"Granger? Hermione Granger?" Daphne feigned ignorance; she couldn't let Pansy know that she knew a little more than she was letting on. She had heard rumours, mainly through letters from her sister, of Draco's constant devotion to his friendship with Hermione Granger. She hadn't told Pansy a single word in fear of ruining their vacation and had destroyed the letters the second she received them. If there was no proof, then Pansy wouldn't have any reason to go mental. Right?

"Yes, that stupid, foul Mudblood Granger," Pansy spat, opening the drawers to her dresser with barely contained rage. "That stupid little chit somehow got into his head; he yelled at me – _yelled_ – because I called the slag a Mudblood. Can you believe it?"

Daphne could, but she wasn't about to let Pansy know that. If Draco had, indeed, been forming a relationship with Granger, whether it been platonic or otherwise, he would do anything to gain her trust, even if it meant pushing away his old friends. Not that she ever believed Draco had considered Pansy to be a friend, more along the lines of a…what did the Americans call them? Fuck buddy? Something along those lines.

"What's the big deal?" she asked, shifting to lie back on the bed, crossing her legs as she watched Pansy yank out various articles of clothes. "Maybe he just wants to get a cleaner vocabulary."

"You know as well as I do that he doesn't," the girl snapped, untying her bikini top. She didn't care who was in the room; she flaunted her nudity, was not at all embarrassed to be naked in front of any individual so long as they weren't a member of her family.

Sighing and turning her gaze away as her friend dressed, Daphne reached over to the bedside table and picked up a bottle of forest green nail polish. "Then why do you think he acted in such a way?" She uncapped the bottle and examined her fingers, waiting patiently for Pansy's response.

"Because the chit has put a spell on him!" Pansy cried, hissing when her bra strap snapped against her skin. "She must have slipped him some kind of potion or put him under the Imperius Curse, that's why he's acting so kind to her!"

'_Do you honestly believe this insane theory, Pansy?'_ Daphne thought, arching a brow as she painted a nail. "Why would she do something like that?"

Pansy flustered for a moment, pausing as she tugged a tank top over her head as she pondered, searching for a valid-sounding response. Just as she yanked off her bikini bottom, she lifted a hand and pointed it directly at Daphne. "Because she's in _love_ with him!"

Lifting her eyes to give Pansy a pointed gaze, she arched both brows, disbelief clearly written on her features. "Where's the proof?"

"She practically lives with him!" Pansy shouted, dressing the lower half of her body. "He's the most handsome, attractive, kind, intelligent man in all of Hogwarts. She was _bound_ to fall in love with him."

"Do you honestly believe this?" Daphne asked, lowering her gaze to examine one completed hand. "Doesn't it sound a little farfetched to you?"

"Not at all! She set up their rounds together, she sleeps just next door to him, she has practically _every_ class with him, and I'm willing to bet anything that she has seen him naked! I bet," she turned to face Daphne, "that she had tried other ways of getting him to fall for her but none of them work, because he's smarter than that."

"So she had to resort to spells and potions?" She tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice and it was quite a difficult task.

"Exactly!"

'_Pansy, you have gone completely mental_.' "Are you sure we can find proof of this?"

"When we go back to Hogwarts, we'll get him alone! We'll figure out what kind of potion she's been feeding him and make the antidote."

'_You're not that great at making potions, Pans.'_

"And you will help me! We'll make him see the error of his ways, we'll free him from her spell! And then he will go back to being mine."

'_You sound like one of those crazy American killers from really bad horror movies.'_

"When we get back, we'll make sure she pays for what she's done to Draco."

_'Why do I have a really bad feeling about this?'_

* * *

**Wow. This was, to be honest, the most difficult beginning chapter I have ever written. I suppose because it's a sequel of sorts…I'm not sure. **

**So, what do you think Pansy and Daphne are going to do? What about Maryse and Astoria? It seems like the Slytherin girls really don't like the idea of Draco being friendly to the Gryffindors. **

**What about Ron? What is he going to do when he gets back to school? What's going to happen when Hermione tells him the truth?**

**How will the New Year's Party go? **

**So many questions to be answered, and if you keep reading, you will get those answers!!**

**And guys, I must thank you all! You have gifted me with over 800 reviews for Merry Christmas Mr. Malfoy. You have no idea how happy it makes me!!! Thank you all!  
**

**Review overview!**

**Adoration/love – very much appreciated. It helps me write faster whenever I get an ego boost.**

**Critical criticism/editing – even more appreciated. If you have any suggestions on how I could improve my writing, please say so. If you have noticed any silly spelling/grammar mistakes that I missed, please let me know where and what they are. **

**Flames – well, according to one person, the prequel was long and tedious and boring (although, said person would write fics about 300 words long, so I can see a multi-chaptered story with over 100, 000 words being 'long' to them.) But, you know, every flame or 'mean' comment will simply be tossed into the fire and used to increase the passion between Hermione and Draco.**

**Thank you!**

**I might, like the last story, post recipes for each chapter. I'm debating, much I'm not sure. Please let me know if you want me to, because I have several recipes I would love to share.**

**Thank you for reading, now please click on that button and review!!!**


	2. Skirts, Pretzels and Flying Pillows

**Warning: humour and alcohol ahead. **

**Chapter 2**

**Skirts, Pretzels, and Flying Pillows**

She sat in the Tower's Common Room, feet propped up on the back of the sofa, head hanging off of the edge in yet another of her uncomfortable-looking comfortable positions. Her skirt threatened to slip and fall at any second, held only in place by her knees, and he waited patiently for the material to slide down her skin and expose those creamy legs of hers that he loved so much.

Tilting her head just a bit, she looked over to her watcher and arched a brow in his direction, frowning up at him just as he flashed her a bright, 'innocent' smile.

"Draco, stop trying to will my skirt down."

He continued to grin at her, smirking as she frowned, and sat back in the armchair, crossing his arms over his chest in a patient gesture. "I'm not trying to _will_ it down, I'm just waiting for you to make a wrong move and cause it to fall."

Scowling at him, she tucked her hands under her knees, holding the skirt in place at the same time. "You are a perverted prat, did you know that?"

"Perverted, yes, but only with you, but I am not a prat." Fixing the cuffs of his grey oxford, he looked over to Hermione with a knowing grin. "Besides, aren't we supposed to be 'shopping' for this New Year's Party affair?"

"Yes," she replied, closing her eyes as blood rushed to her head. She didn't know why, but it felt so good.

"So why aren't you getting up?" He continued to eye her odd position, a look of mixed confusion and delight crossing his face.

"You want me to be honest?" She didn't even move; how could that position be comfortable, he had no idea. She seemed to enjoy the strangest positions and the perverted side of his mind wondered if it went the same way with other things.

"Of course." He slowly drew his wand, grateful that she kept her eyes closed.

"I honestly don't feel like it," she replied with a half-hearted shrug. "I'm too comfortable. You can go get the stuff on your own."

"Why? So that, by the time I get back, you'll be hiding somewhere in the castle and I'll have to go to this damn party alone?"

"Not at all."

"You're a horrible liar, Hermione."

"I just don't feel like going down to Hogsmeade; it's cold outside."

Sighing heavily, he rubbed his eyes at her childishness. And she had the gall to call him a child?

"It's winter, it's supposed to be cold. Besides, we don't even have to leave the school."

He hid the wand just in time as her eyes flung open, one hand moving out from under her knees to point a finger in his direction. "We are _not_ involving the House Elves in this."

"Why is that? It's their duty to serve us food and drink isn't it?"

"But they are not supposed to serve alcohol to underage students!"

Draco rolled his eyes as her pathetic excuse for an argument. "Smartest witch of all time, right? Even I can see a flaw in that."

"And what is it, Dumbest Wizard of all time?" she snapped back, wishing that he were closer so that she could hit him in the knee.

"Just _lie, _tell them that it's for students of age and they will be none the wiser. If there is a complaint, I will just force Seamus and Dean, the party-planners of this little shindig, to admit that they had gone into town and bought the alcohol."

Frowning at him, she let out an exasperated sigh. "And what are we supposed to do? If McGonagall comes in and finds a group of First Years completely sloshed, who do you think she'll blame?"

"The First Years?"

"No, you dolt, us! I can't just sit back and watch as underage students drink alcohol."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Draco wished that Hermione would be willing to bend the rules a little bit more at times. "How about," he began, "we tell the underage students that the alcohol is for the older ones? That way, if they get caught drinking, it won't be our fault."

Turning her eyes to stare at the fireplace as she contemplated the solution, Hermione furrowed her brow as she watched the flames – which she had decided to turn a brilliant crimson for the sake of spite – as she went over the pros and cons of his suggestion.

Sighing softly in resignation, she closed her eyes and nodded. "Alright, we'll put up a sign saying that no underage students should be drinking."

"But you have to promise me that you won't hand out detentions or take off points if you catch a student drinking!" Draco added, knowing fully well that if he didn't mention it now, he would never have a chance to say it.

"Can I at least reprimand them?"

"A little bit, but you can't kick them out."

Heaving another sigh, she wriggled her feet and shrugged in agreement. "Okay, fine. When are we leaving to go get the Firewhiskey?"

"Oh, I'm getting the hell out of here in just…a…second…" he said, pulling back out his wand.

"What do you…Draco!!!" she ended on a scream as he waved his wand and willed her skirt to fall down to cover her face. "You prat! You pervert! You arse!"

"I really love those orange knickers on you," he said, voice moving away as she struggled with her skirt.

She let out a rather loud expletive that had Draco tsking as he moved closer to the doorway, watching with a sadistic smile as she struggled to remove her skirt from her face and not fall off of the couch at the same time.

_Thump!_

She landed on the floor in a rather awkward position, legs practically hanging over her hand, almost as though she were now in an upside down seated position, cursing loudly.

"Draco bloody Malfoy, you get your skinny arse over here and help me!" she shouted, trying her best to get out of the position without injuring herself.

His eyes glowed with laughter as he held his stomach, leaning against the wall, watching with absolute mirth as she continued to struggle, knowing fully well that, as soon as she was free, she would come and make him pay. For the time being, however, he would enjoy the scene.

"You jerk!" she shrieked, finally getting to a standing position, scrambling for her wand as she sprinted for the door. "I'm going to get you for that!"

He was out of the door and in the hallway in seconds, running as fast as he could towards the kitchens, praying that she wouldn't be able to catch up to him.

He laughed the whole way there.

* * *

It had been a long time since anything worthy of a party happened at the school; the mood had been so down, so despairing, for so long that the simple notion of a party was lost amidst the depression caused by the war. Now, however, the party atmosphere slowly began to consume the air the students breathed, there were little skips to their steps as they announced loudly that they had been 'cordially invited' to attend the Gryffindor New Year's party. Girls were flocking about, chattering away about what they should wear or who they might meet, boys were chatting about Firewhiskey and who they might be kissing when the bell tolled midnight.

Needless to say, the school was slowly becoming a more animated, excited place.

Even Hermione was getting into the spirit, unable to stop herself from smiling as she walked through the hallways with Draco, trying her best to hide the several bottles of Firewhiskey they had in their hands.

She hadn't caught up to him, unfortunately, so she knew that he would have to deal with the consequences later on for his little stunt earlier that day, but for now, she was not about to let anything ruin her good mood.

She, the bookworm of Hogwarts, was going to attend her first real party, and she was actually looking forward to it. Maybe it was the atmosphere, perhaps it was because there was finally some inter-house unity going on in the school; all she knew was that she had never been more excited in her life.

"What do you wear to these kinds of things?" she asked suddenly, tilting her head back to stare at Draco.

He shrugged; tightening his grip on the bottles as several Ravenclaw fifth years eyed them hungrily. "We should have really charmed these to look like something else," he muttered distractedly.

Rolling her eyes, she sent a glare towards the Ravenclaw students before turning back to the man beside her. "Did you even hear my question?"

"Of course I did."

"What did I say?"

He sent a grin her way and replied in a falsetto voice, mimicking hers to almost a T if it weren't for the fact that his was much lower than hers, "'What do you wear to these kinds of things?' Honestly, Hermione…_oomph_…What was that for?"

Removing her fist from his kidney, she shook her head, sending her hair away from her face as she sent a smile his way. "I do not sound like that."

"You didn't have to hit me!"

"You insulted me."

"It still didn't merit physical punishment!"

"You charmed my skirt!"

"You were asking for it!"

"I was not!"

"Were too!"

"I was absolutely not! I was simply comfortable."

"You were most definitely asking for it, and I have no idea how that damn position could be considered comfortable!"

"What position?"

Both heads turned to face a gaggle of girls standing nearby, most of which were giggling loudly, faces bright red as they watched the Head Boy and Girl argue loudly in the middle of the hallway. The leader of the group, a Hufflepuff fourth year, was grinning broadly.

"None of your business," Draco snapped as Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I was sitting in a really weird position on the couch," she replied with a shrug, "and because men are not flexible at all and do not understand the female body, he just couldn't believe that it was comfortable."

The leader blushed brightly as she spoke the next words, causing Draco to send a furious glare her way; "And what kind of position was it?"

Sighing loudly, she knew that she had to answer honestly or the rumour mill would be working overtime to ensure that every student 'knew' about Hermione, Draco, and their 'positions.'

"Feet on the back, head hanging on the edge; you know, upside down. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have to get back to our duties," she said rather harshly, gesturing to Draco to keep walking.

They had walked for no more than a minute before they heard loud, shrieking laughter erupting from down the hallway, most likely caused by one of the girls' questions whether one could be upside down while doing the deed.

"I'm going to kill somebody soon," he said through gritted teeth, quickening his steps to get the hell out of the hallway as soon as humanely possible.

"I'd rather you not," Hermione replied, avoiding the gaze of a shocked Gryffindor, "I don't think it would look very good to have an ex-Death Eater killing random students because they were giggling."

Letting out a rather loud sigh, most likely to avoid cursing, Draco turned to face her as they made their way down another hall. "Don't you get it? They're going to tell the whole school some fucked up version of what you just said. Everybody, by the end of the week, will be talking about us and positions!"

Her cheeks flushed a bright red and she shifted uncomfortably, hugging the bottles closer to her chest. "I know that," she snapped. "I also know that it won't be the end of the world if a few students say that we were fighting."

"No, it's perfectly normal for us to fight about positions and skirts in the middle of a hallway," he replied sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

Sighing heavily, she turned to face Aphrodite, "Jitterbug," she said, and the statue moved aside to grant them entrance. As they stepped past the threshold, she turned her head to continue their conversation. "To be honest, I don't think it matters what we were arguing about, it's the fact that we were arguing. It is considered perfectly normal for us to be at each other's throats."

"I know that," he replied, placing the bottles on the table, "but I just don't think that the topic of discussion would be considered appropriate for an argument between enemies."

Placing her bottles beside his, sending a quick glare to the several alcoholic beverages on the table, she crossed her arms and sent Draco a mixed look. "And who says that we're supposed to be public enemies? You've been sitting at the Gryffindor table for a week now, we've been living in the same quarters for half of a year, you'd think that the students might realize that we've developed a civilized relationship."

"Yes, some students do think that we've being more civilized," he replied on a sigh, opening the fridge to pull out a jug of milk, "but some students like to think in the old ways."

"Like the Slytherins?"

He actually sent a glare her way, looking away only to pull out a glass. "You know, as well as I do, that not all Slytherins believe in the same Purist attitudes that Pansy and Lucius did."

She noted and filed away that he had not called the man his father, but had instead called him by his first name.

"You also know," he continued, "that there are several Gryffindors and other students who do not believe in the notion of an ex-Death Eater. Hell, some of them still believe that Snape was bad to the very end."

"But he wasn't!"

"I know that," Draco said, leaning against the counter to face Hermione, "but, I heard a few Ravenclaws talking the other day about Snape and, apparently, he had been so evil that he made Voldemort look like a cute little puppy."

Rubbing her face, she exhaled loudly, closing her eyes against the pain that threatened to wash over her at the thought of students defiling the memory of their teacher. Certainly, Snape had not been the greatest character of all time, but he had fought, to the very end, for the Order, for their freedom, for the memory of Harry's mother, the one woman he had ever loved. Harry thought that she didn't know, Harry thought that she never once knew why Snape couldn't withstand the thought of the boy dying, but she knew.

It had been an accident, really; she'd been waiting for him for an extra credit session, when she had seen the Pensive and curiosity had taken hold of her. To make a long story short, Snape found her shortly afterward, crying her eyes out, sobbing about love and other nonsensical things. He had been rather ticked, to say the least, but, in the end, she was fortunate to receive only a short series of detentions and to make a vow not to repeat anything she had seen to anyone.

The vow had been broken after his death; but she still kept true to her word. If the man had wanted the world to know, he would have ensured that the world had known.

"I can't believe some people," she sighed loudly. "Everyone seems to have to have a say in things, they always misinterpret or act so…disgustingly biased."

Draco shrugged, downing the milk in one large gulp, before turning to rinse it off. "It's the way the world is, Hermione; I thought you, of all the people, would have figured that out by now. We listen to what we want to listen to and ignore the rest, whether it's the truth or not."

"I know," she replied, moving over to the couches, "but it still bothers me."

Draco moved to begin piling the bottles into the fridge, quite grateful that nothing disappeared once it was placed in the cold confines; it was only the reverse. Hermione collapsed onto the couch, watching the fire crackle merrily, listening to the faint jingling of the bottles as they clanged against one another each time Draco moved them.

"So," she said after a moment's silence, "I know it seems odd of me to change the subject like this, but…what do I wear to a party?"

He looked over to send a smile to the mass of hair just poking out at the end of the couch, a few curls hanging over to stop just inches from above the ground.

"I suppose you could always wear Slytherin colours; show your pride."

"Bah!" she scoffed, lifting an arm to wave it dismissively in the air. "It's a Gryffindor party!"

"Just about every student in the school has been invited," he pointed out, turning around to open a cupboard, revealing a bag of pretzels. "So it shouldn't matter what colour you wear."

"I want to be neutral," she sighed. "I don't want to wear red or green."

"But aren't those supposed to be _festive_ colours?" he asked, pulling at the bag to open it.

"I really don't care," she muttered, lifting a leg to hang it over the back of the couch. "I just want to know what _kind_ of clothes to wear."

He yanked harder at the bag, cursing under his breath that it would not yield to his strength. "You could always wear a little skirt and tiny top."

"I am not a tart!"

Rolling his eyes, he heaved out a sigh of frustration. "Just wear a pair of jeans and a shirt; it's not like you're going to some fancy supper." He tugged harder at the corners, wishing that the damn bag would open.

"Really? I don't have to wear nice clothes? I mean, we are going to a New Year's party…" she trailed off, lost in thought, wondering just how she could make a simple pair of jeans and a shirt look sophisticated yet casual enough.

"You could go in your naked if you want, for all I care, just don't go wearing some bloody ball gown or an outfit reserved for weddings or that sort of bollocks."

"I suppose I could wear a nice pair of pants and add a casual but nice top," she said softly, no longer listening to a word he said.

"That's what I told you!" he

snapped; face reddening with frustration directed to the bag of pretzels. "Blimey, this bloody bag won't fucking…" _POP!_ "BLOODY HELL!"

Hermione jerked up at the loud explosion, eyes wide as she stared around the room for the source of the sound. Turning, she found Draco in the kitchen; half covered in pretzels, a bag unceremoniously torn wide open in his hands. She slapped a hand to her lips in order to muffle the laughter, eyes squinting and body rocking as she tried her hardest not to guffaw at the sight before her.

"You…you uh…have something in your hair…" she choked out, eyes glowing with mirth.

His response was glaring at her before letting out a sound of annoyance. "The bloody bag wouldn't open," he grumbled, reaching into his pocket for his wand to clean up the mess.

She couldn't help it; she burst into laughter, hugging her sides and leaning on the couch for support, unable to get the image of Draco with pretzel-covered hair out of her mind. Damn it, he even had a pretzel stuck in the collar of his oxford.

"It's not _that_ funny," he chuckled softly, unable to hold back his own laughter at the stupidity of the situation.

"At least it wasn't flour," she managed to gasp out, falling back as she laughed; an image of a flour-covered Draco replaced the pretzel-covered one.

"Bugger off," he laughed out, leaning back on the counter to finally laugh aloud at the scenario.

"It's karma," she said, slowly coming off the high as her laughter faded, finally able to properly catch her breath.

"Karma?"

"You deserved it," she giggled, sticking her head out from the end of the couch with a sly grin on her face.

"What do you mean?"

"You flipped my skirt."

"And what does that have anything to do with this?"

Slowly, she lifted her hand, revealing her wand clasped tightly in her grip. A few giggles escaped her lips as she twirled the wand, watching as his face went from confused to annoyed in a millisecond.

"You did this?" he cried, waving around the opened bag of pretzels, sending more flying about the kitchen.

"I was waiting for the right moment."

"Why you…you bloody…I'm going to get you for this!" he shouted, dropping the bag and sprinting to the couch.

She rolled off of it in seconds and ran towards her bedroom, intending to lock him out. Taking the stairs two at a time, she laughed loudly as he chased after her, squealing as he caught her at the top of the stairs.

"You are so in trouble," he muttered, lowering his mouth to capture hers in a passionate kiss.

"If this is the punishment," she said softly, cupping his face in her hands, "then I don't mind."

He chuckled into her mouth and pushed her into the nearest bedroom, intending to thoroughly punish her.

* * *

"How do I look?"

"Fine."

Hands met hips as a pointed glare was sent to the blond head hiding behind a book. "You didn't even look."

"Yes, I did."

"What colour shirt am I wearing?"

"I know that you changed into a pair of bright pink knickers."

"What does that prove?"

"It means I was paying attention," Draco replied, lifting a hand to emphasize his point.

"What colour shirt am I wearing?" Hermione repeated, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Green?" There was a hint of hopefulness in his voice as he said it.

"No."

"Bollocks."

"It is not," she replied, rolling her eyes; "I told you that I'm not wearing a green shirt, which means you didn't even look."

"Do I have to?" he whined, clearly enjoying irritating the poor girl.

"You either tell me how I look or I hex your penis off, how does that sound?"

"It doesn't sound very nice at all," he muttered, letting out a sound of resignation. Dog-earing the page, missing the way she winced at the mistreatment of the poor book, he lowered the text to his lap and stared at Hermione.

She had managed to tug on a pair of simple, dark blue jeans that looked casual yet sophisticated, and, as a shirt, she had slipped on a simple silver three-quarter sleeve top that hung loosely around her shoulders and flared out to form bell-like sleeves. It hung loosely around her waist, but clung just right to accent her hourglass figure.

He arched a brow at her frizzy hair hanging wild around her face, a strange contrast to the clean cut outfit she wore.

"I highly suggest that you fix your hair," he said, gesturing to her with the book.

Sighing, she crossed her arms, sending him a pointed stare. "Other than my hair?" she snapped. "And just so you know, it's your fault it's like this," she added.

"How is it my fault?"

"A certain bloody idiot decided that he likes to grab it in a moment of passion and run his fingers through it so much it gets abnormally frizzy," she replied, continuing to glare at him.

Shaking his head, he opened up the book, going back to his page. "You look nice, Hermione."

"Really?"

"Yes, now go fix your hair."

Resisting the urge to go over and kick him in the shins, she let out a loud huff before marching back up the stairs, intending to take his breath away the next time she cam back down. She had secretly hoped that he would gawk a bit; it wasn't every day that Hermione Granger wore a fancier top that clung in the right places, but she had to remind herself that Draco wasn't like any other guy.

Grateful that it was still a few hours before the party was due to start, she began the gruelling process of fiddling with her hair, pulling out various potions and opening a book Ginny had given her on beauty treatment. Normally, she wouldn't be looking through it, but she wanted Draco on his knees, begging for her the next time she walked down, and she had to fix the hair his damn enticing fingers had ruined.

Well…it had always been naturally curly, but those fingers just got rid of the curls and left a frizzy look in their wake.

After a good half hour of fiddling and toying, she finally managed to tame her hair and the result what rather pleasant. However, she was not completely pleased and began the process of further toying and playing with her hair. Another half hour passed, the silence of her concentration broken only by a few shouts from Draco saying that women took way too long to get ready.

Finally, she smiled at the end result, quite pleased with both the book Ginny had given her and her own little personal touches added here or there. Reaching over, she grabbed a can of Muggle hairspray to keep the final result in tact before staring at the scarce make-up containers on her dresser.

She wasn't really one to wear make-up; she always thought that she could live life without it, be happy no matter how she looked, but maybe tonight, it wouldn't hurt to add a little mascara and a touch of rouge…

Draco was still reading when she came back down, although he was a lot further in the book than he had been earlier, and she paused for a moment to admire the image he gave off. Seated comfortably in an arm chair, legs stretched out in front of him, mismatched socks covering his feet, he looked so relaxed and undeniably delectable. His hair fell gently around his face, an occasional strand daring to touch his eyes before he pushed it away, grey eyes focused entirely on the book before him, almost with a glazed look in them, as though he was completely immersed in the storyline.

His scent wafted through the air, a scent that she had categorized as purely Draco; at some point in time, some grand Creator decided to make sure that Draco smelt like the finest combination of purely male musk softened with a touch of vanilla and a smell that could only be identified as outdoors' autumn. It has some crispness to it, like a combination of newly fallen rain and cool air that sent a myriad of smells in the breeze. She wasn't sure how a man came to smell like it, but he did, and she loved every little bit of it. She had, originally, expected him to smell like mint or something related to the colour green, but she preferred the fall scent, making her think of multiple bright, passionate colours swirling around to blur her vision. It perfectly melded with his personality.

"Well, are you going to read all night?"

"You look fine."

Rolling her eyes, she lifted her wand and sent the nearest pillow flying into his face, not at all counting on the fact that he had a book right in front of his nose. There was a loud crack and an even louder curse, followed by her laughter cutting short as she saw his nose bleeding profusely.

"What the hell was that for?"

Fumbling for her wand, she made her way over to him, unsure whether she should keep laughing or if she should apologize profusely. She decided to go in between, apologizing between her laughter.

"I'm sorry, Draco," she chuckled out, not sounding sorry at all, "I didn't factor in the book…I didn't…think…"

"Hermione not thinking…damn, that's a bad thing," he muttered, sitting back as she cleaned the blood and performed a basic healing spell to fix his nose. "You broke my bloody nose…_again!_"

"This time it was an accident!" she snapped back, trying to focus all of her attention on healing the wound.

"You still attacked me."

She poked his cheek with her wand harsher than necessary to soak up the blood, glaring at him. "You didn't even listen to me."

"I said that you look fine!" he cried, wanting to squirm out of her embrace, feeling more like a child than a grown man.

"I didn't ask you how I looked," she replied, cupping his chin to tilt his head back and examine the damage and healing. "There, you look fine."

Glaring at her, he pulled out his wand, transfiguring the pillow into a large mirror and began examining his face. Poking and pulling at his nose, quite content that there was no more pain; he only moved back to stare at her once he was satisfied that she hadn't permanently disfigured him.

"My nose is only slightly crooked, but I suppose it will have to do; you are an amateur after all."

"Oh, sod off," she snapped, smacking his shoulder.

Pinching his nose and turning it from side to side, he transfigured the mirror back into the pillow and picked up his book, dog-earing the page. "You're lucky nothing got on my shirt."

"Why? Because it's made of fairy silk and unicorn hair?" She made her way over to the kitchen now, slipping her wand into her back pocket.

"Everyone knows that fairies do not make silk and unicorn is reserved for wands only due to its magical properties," Draco replied, running a hand through his hair.

"Very well, it's made of fine Egyptian silk cultivated and enchanted by Veelas."

"Wrong; Veelas don't enjoy doing some menial tasks; they would get bored and probably kill someone." He paused after his sentence, teeth moving to chew on his mouth as he watched her back. "You did your hair…"

Sighing loudly, she opened the fridge and began pulling out the bottles of Firewhiskey, wishing for a few Butterbeer as well and adding them to the pile. "Yes, I did."

Blinking several times, he couldn't get the image out of his mind. He loved Hermione's wild hair, absolutely loved it to death, the way it would not be tamed, how it always cascaded down her back in chaotic curls, the way it frizzed after a particularly passionate session, almost as though the intensity had electrified it. But now…it was as though she had reached a mutual agreement with the curls. They had softened into waves, curling at the tips, sliding down her back in undulating, golden-brown locks. There was no frizz, nothing standing out of place, just smooth, long curls that hung around her face and down her back.

"I like it," he managed to choke out as he imagined himself running his fingers through her soft hair. Slowly, he got up and made his way over to her, quite pleased that she kept her back to him.

"Thank you," she said, pulling out bottle after bottle, muttering something under her breath that sounded very much like, "Who the hell is going to drink all of this? We got way too much. Bloody mental…the whole lot of them…"

Slowly, so as to not scare her, he slid his hands over her hips, rubbing the satiny material of her shirt as she let out a quiet gasp of surprise. Leaning forward, he pressed his face against her hair, almost purring at the soft sensation of the smooth curls against his flesh. The scent of her shampoo – a delightful combination of pomegranate and berries – wafted to his nose and he closed his eyes as pleasure coursed through him. Those scents were so like her, combined with a smell that made him think of flowers blooming on a rainy spring day. They permeated his senses, filling his body as he took in every smell, nuzzling her hair as calmness overwhelmed him.

"I…Draco…?"

"I love the way you smell," he murmured, pressing his thumbs against her hipbones, urging her body to press back against his. He trailed his lips through her hair, finding her ear as he moved to the side of her head. "So sweet…so good…"

Her lips twitched into a smile of delight as she leaned back into him, letting her head fall back against his shoulder. "You don't smell too bad yourself."

Rolling his eyes and letting out a rather uncharacteristic snort, he lowered his lips to the spot right behind her ear. "You are amazing with romantic comments, Hermione."

She shivered at the feel of his lips on her skin and knew that if she didn't sneak out of his grasp soon, they wouldn't be going to any party and she would have to re-do her hair.

Shimmying in his embrace, she turned to face him, pressing a chaste kiss against his lips. "You always smell nice," she murmured, lowering her lids to look at him through a lidded gaze. "But, Mr. Malfoy, I do believe that we do not have time to engage in extra-curricular activities at this time; I do not think that the Gryffindor house will appreciate us not showing up."

He wanted to deepen the kiss, wanted to plunder her mouth, to plunder her body right there and then, but reason reminded him that she made a good point. Reason, he realized, was usually a thorn in his side.

Thinking up several creative curses and expletives, he heaved a sigh and pulled away, only after stealing one more kiss.

"This had better be a good party."

Smiling to herself, she turned to resume her earlier task of removing every single bottle from the fridge. "Gryffindors know how to throw a party."

"I don't think that they'll be able to beat any Slytherin bashes." He moved to help her, pulling out a thick bag from the cupboard, casting extendable and non-breakable charms over it.

"Just you wait and see," she promised, glancing over to him as he began placing the bottles in the bag. Frowning suddenly, she eyed him up and down, arching a brow. "You're not wearing that, are you?"

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"It's green…"

"Forest green," he corrected, gesturing to his oxford, purposely trailing his fingers to where the top few buttons were undone to show off some of his splendid chest.

Rolling her eyes, she reached out a stabbed him in the stomach with her finger. "I thought that we were going for neutral colours. The only thing neutral about your clothes is your jeans." Although, she could easily point out that blue was the colour for Ravenclaw, but that didn't matter in this case.

"You're wearing a silver shirt," he said, gesturing to her torso with a bottle.

"Silver is a more neutral colour than green."

"No it isn't…silver and green are both Slytherin colours." His eyes widened and he let out an exaggerated gasp. "Why you little lovebird! You love me so much that you're willing to wear my House colours? Is this your way of letting the world know that we shag each other on a daily basis?"

Her fist made contact with his liver this time, earning a loud grunt him as she huffed loudly. "You are such a prat," she said through chuckles.

"But you love me."

"Alas, I believe I do."

* * *

**Done Chapter 2!!!!!!! So happy. **

**I actually had to restart and rewrite the entire beginning of this chapter (I had already written four pages), because I had altered the ending of the last scene with Draco and Hermione (at the Gryffindor table) in the first chapter. **

**Urgh.**

**So. What do you think will happen at this New Year's Party? How are Draco and Blaise going to be 'initiated'? Will Draco finally get to see the girls' dormitories in Gryffindor?**

**Who knows!**

**Review overview!**

**Adoration/love = much appreciated and encouraged, as it helps me get through the gruelling days of school and homework and gives me the strength to keep writing.**

**Critical criticism/editing = very much appreciated. Please, do not be afraid to list any mistakes I've made, I really do like it when people do because it helps me improve as a writer. Don't be afraid to be a bit critical as well; I can take your criticism so long as you don't aim to make me cry (which would just be MEAN!)**

**Flames = I shall use them to increase the already raging inferno that is the fire of passion between Hermione and Draco. SO MUCH PASSION!!!!!!!!!!! (Hell you can even post a fake flame – the more flames I get, the more lemons I plan on posting to SPITE YOU!!!)**

**Thank you for reading!**

**By the way, it may take some time to update due to school work and I'm working on a Halloween'ish challenge, as well as Leave Out All the Rest. So please be patient. Thank you. **


	3. Mistletoe Magnet

**To everyone: on my profile, I have attached a poll at the top of my page. This poll is concerning what two other fics I should work on at the same time as this. I have already posted the Prologue for "Leave Out All the Rest" and intend to complete it (it will be a slow process, however), but I also want to hear your opinions.**

**Please, before posting on the poll, read the summaries I have posted in my profile. **

**Thanks to valegrl35 who pointed out to me that I made a little mistake in this chapter (character confusion). It's Seamus who has the Muggle dad, not Dean (he's Muggle-Born). Thank you, the correction has been made. ^.^ For your love, you get cookies. 3  
**

**Thank you.**

**Chapter 3**

**Mistletoe Magnet**

The party was already getting into full swing by the time they arrived; it could be heard quite clearly a good two corridors away. Draco had not been able to mask his surprise at the rowdiness of the Gryffindors while Hermione gave him her infamous 'I-told-you-so' look that had him shrugging.

Rounding the corner, Hermione smiling up at the painting of the Fat Lady, who looked positively irked at the sounds coming from the room beyond.

"Honestly," she huffed loudly, spotting Hermione and Draco, "you two better get in there and tell them to calm down! I'm not dealing with this rowdiness all night long!"

Not even watching Draco's reactions out of the corner of her eye – she knew that he was positively dumbstruck at the way the portrait was reacting – she smiled to the woman. "I heard rumours that Violet and a few others were supposed to be visiting you."

Huffing even louder, the Fat Lady shrugged her shoulders and Draco watched as she began ranting and raving about how Violet was having an affair with Lancelot, the painting near the Ravenclaw dormitories, and how she hadn't even broken it off with Elric the Kind, up near the Astronomy tower, and how she was too pissed off to even want anything to do with the woman.

Hermione managed to interrupt before the Fat Lady continued with her rant, giving the woman what Draco would have considered to be an award-winning smile. "I will see about the noise level, don't fret. How about you see if Faatima on the fourth floor wants some company? I'm certain that she's not too involved with the male portraits to be gallivanting about at this hour."

Thought crossed over the woman's face for a while, brow furrowed as she considered the situation, and before Hermione or Draco could even say a word, she clapped her hands and smiled down at them. "What a brilliant idea! I can't believe I didn't think of it before! You are such an angel!" With that, she rushed off, leaving her portrait empty.

Hermione stared dumbfounded at the empty portrait for a moment before Draco sent a glare her way. "Now how are we supposed to get in, darling 'angel'?" he asked, gesturing with his arm, causing the bottles in the bag he held to clink and jingle loudly.

"It's not my fault!" she shot back, hands instinctively moving to her hips as she slipped into defensive mode. "It's not my fault that Violet is such a tart!"

"It's your fault for putting it into that woman's mind that she should just go off without letting us in."

"I didn't see you try and stop her. What about that heart-stopping smile of yours? Why didn't you use your amazing wiles on her? Hell, you should have just stripped!"

"What would me stripping have anything to do with stopping that damn painting?"

"She would have been too busy staring at your body to leave!"

"Why didn't you strip then?"

"Because I believe that she is only into blokes."

"Well…blimey, Hermione! Why do I have to completely strip? Why does it have to be me?"

"Because," she blushed furiously as she spoke, "you have a decent body, alright? She would have gone mental over you!"

"Are you complimenting me while insulting me?" He had slowed down his voice, a mischievous look on his face.

"Sod off," she snapped, crossing her arms in frustration. "You bloody well could have stopped her but you didn't! It is equally your fault."

"My fault? It's not my fault I have a gorgeous body that I don't always take advantage of." He was moving closer, stance growing more and more threatening with the minute.

She, all the while, didn't give a damn whether he decided to hit her or kiss her; all of a sudden, just wanted to feel his touch. It must have been the passion of the argument…their blood was flowing, hearts beating wildly; she must be getting aroused from the argument.

Or the idea that they might have really, really, really good make-up sex afterwards.

"Maybe you should take more advantage of it!" she snarled, pushing at his chest with her free hand. "You should have stopped her."

"Why does it always have to be my fault? Why can't you take the blame for once?" His mouth was getting dangerously close to hers.

"Because I know that you are to blame too!" Her breath mingled with his as her voice lowered.

"So you do agree that you're at fault," he said, voice falling on a murmur as his lips descended on hers.

Both bags dropped simultaneously, a loud clattering sound that broke the silence as his lips consumed hers, teeth scraping along her mouth and tongue, his own tongue delving into her mouth to plunder and steal her treasure. Her teeth found it and bit down, chewing on it as he let out a loud, guttural growl of pleasure.

His hands dove into her hair, gripping it tightly to keep her mouth in place as he fiercely captured her mouth. Her hands grabbed hold of his shoulders, both for support and to pull him closer as her legs liquefied and turned to jelly.

He let out another growl as he felt her nails dig into his skin through his shirt, and he slid his hands down, gripping her hips and lifting her with ease, slamming her body into the nearest wall. She mewled, that loud, long cry that made his body heat to a feverish peak, and she wrapped her legs tightly around his, unable to bear any distance between their bodies.

"Ahem."

He tugged his lips from her, dragging them down her throat as she threw her head back in pleasure, the mewling growing louder as his teeth joined his lips, bruising the already bruised fleshed, preparing to mark her again and again as his.

"Ahem!"

Both pulled away, gasping for air as the sound finally reached their ears, and Hermione buried her face into his shoulder, unable to deal with facing whoever had made the sound.

Draco lifted a shaking hand to rub over his face, trying to decrease the desire threatening to overflow in his body, taking in one long, deep breath before turning his head to face the source of the sound.

"Honestly, if you two are going to shag, you may as well find an appropriate setting! I have guests!" The Fat Lady cried, glaring at him from her portrait, gesturing to two other women who had joined her.

One of them, a petite, Middle-Eastern woman with a long black plait, had buried her face into her hands, most definitely blushing brightly, while the other, a taller woman with a mass of red curls, was grinning broadly.

"Oh, come on Rosie; look at 'em! Don't they look so adorable?" the redhead squealed, nearly jumping with joy.

The couple could only assume that Rosie was the Fat Lady's real name and both made the mental note and filed it away for a later date, in case either of them had to get on her good side for one reason or another. Draco then let out a loud sigh and slowly helped Hermione unwrap her legs and ease her feet back onto the floor. Gripping her elbows when she stumbled slightly, he placed a gentle kiss to her forehead before turning to glare at the portrait.

"You could have let us in before going out on your excursion," he said sharply.

"And you two could have waited a little bit," the woman snapped back, crossing her arms and letting out a loud huff. "Honestly, I wasn't going to be gone for long."

"Oh, Faatima, stop closing your eyes and look! I'm willing to bet anything he is bloody _long_!" the redhead cried, yanking on Faatima's arms, trying to get the poor woman to look.

"It's not proper," the other woman said weakly, managing to keep her hands firmly locked over her face.

"Stop being such a bloody prude!" the redhead huffed.

"Please, Morgana, stop," Faatima murmured. "It's not proper to watch the act of procreation. It's not my fault that you're such a tart."

"Oh, I am not a tart!"

"A succubus in the form of a painting."

"Darling, I _used_ to be a succubus."

The Fat Lady rolled her eyes as the two women began to argue, mainly about Morgana's past deeds and Faatima's lack of sexual activity.

Hermione shoved her hair from her face, shaking it back an attempt to look more regal and composed than completely flustered. However, one look at the childish argument taking place in the portrait had her grinning broadly. Until she took sight of the Fat Lady's knowing and reprimanding gaze.

The blush instantly flew back over her cheeks and she shuffled on the spot, fiddling wit the hem of her shirt as Draco let out a sigh.

"Honestly, Hermione, you don't have to be so bloody embarrassed," he chastised her, rolling his eyes before facing the portrait. "I want your word that none of you will tell anyone about this, ghost, portrait, student or professor. Not one single thing that has the capacity to communicate will know about what you saw."

"Now see here," the Fat Lady began, drawing herself up, "you can't just go around ordering me about!"

Draco turned to Hermione with an irked gaze and she shrugged in response; she understood the Fat Lady more than he did and she knew that the woman was being quite honest in her statement; she didn't let anyone push her around.

Sighing with resignation, Draco did the only thing he assumed would garner the Fat Lady's trust and silence. Slowly, he lifted his hands, rolled up the sleeves, and began to unbutton his shirt.

"What are you doing?" the Fat Lady shouted, eyes wide with shock as he began to spread open the oxford.

"OH MY!" Morgana shrieked, pleasure clearly written over her beautiful face. "Faatima, isn't that the most beautiful male specimen you have EVER seen?"

"It is the _only_ male specimen I have seen," Faatima retorted sharply; although her gaze never left Draco's chest. "And I have to admit…I quite like it…"

"I knew that you liked blokes!"

"Sod off."

Hermione bit back laughter as Draco fully exposed his chest, knowing that the Fat Lady was too flabbergasted to say anything. Draco, she had to admit, had sculpted one gorgeous body. The lean torso, the defined abs and pectorals, the broad shoulders and thinner waist, it reminded her very much of an ancient Greek sculpture. She knew that no woman in her right mind would be able to resist the man once he had exposed his attractive body.

Hell, she sure as hell hadn't been able to resist it…and she was able to resist just about 99.9% of all things women found tempting, including the chocolate cravings one got just about every day for one week a month.

"So, do I have your trust, my beautiful, beautiful Rosie, that you won't tell anyone what you saw?" Draco drawled, moving closer to the portrait, leaning against the wall in a way that would accent his body and definitely draw their gazes down to the thin trail of hair leading into his pants.

Hermione, all the while, could not tear her eyes from his arse if she tried. Damn that man…

Swallowing several times, the Fat Lady fanned her face before nodding several times. "Yes, oh quite yes, we won't tell a soul, will we ladies?" She looked to her companions as they nodded in agreement. "See, we won't tell anyone."

"Good," he said, adding his infamous grin that made most women melt. Hermione was quite surprised that they hadn't completely melted off of the portrait as all three women sighed heavily and seemed to slump.

Clearing her throat, having finally torn her gaze and mind away from his delectable arse, she moved beside him to gain his attention; she didn't even try to garner the women's attention, they were far too gone to focus on anything but Draco's 'rippling abs,' as Morgana had called them.

"Yes?" he said, turning to flash her the same smile.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione resisted the urge to pinch his nipple in retribution, but knew that it would only start another argument – which she would definitely lose, since she had suggested that he take off his clothes in the first place – and would end up with him pressing her against the wall again.

Not that she minded the final result but…now was not the time…

"Don't you think that it's about time we joined the party inside?" she asked, moving to pick up both discarded bags. She was completely oblivious to his following gaze, eyes darkening with lust as she bent over, wriggling her pretty little bum in the air.

Damn…he loved it when she wore such bright knickers…the neon pink stood out starkly against the jeans and shirt. He wanted to just grab her, do various filthy things, and then walk away with the knickers burning a hole in his pocket.

She would probably get very, very, very angry, but he didn't give a damn so long as he got to keep the knickers.

"Stop staring at my bum."

Blinking, he was surprised to find her looking at him from over her shoulder, slowly standing upright.

"I wasn't."

"Yes you were."

"I was not; I was making sure that you didn't forget something."

"What would I forget?"

"To put on your knickers?"

"You pervert!"

_Thoomph!_ Her fist made contact with his spleen this time and he gripped it tightly, leaning against the wall in an overly dramatic fashion. He turned his gaze towards the women in the portrait, making sure his shirt fell open perfectly to expose his body.

"Can you believe she just hit me?" he cried, making sure his voice sounded pained and sultry at the same time. "I think she has caused me a great injury; she must have used magic to penetrate my hard abs!"

"You horrible wench!" Morgana shrieked, turning on Hermione. "You have injured this beautiful, gorgeous, sensual man!"

"I will go and get help!" Faatima cried, stopping only when Draco called out to her.

"No, I will be fine," he said, letting his head fall back, hair falling in such a way that his face and body resembled that of a fallen angel. "I will survive…I do not need assistance…"

"But…but…"

The Fat Lady let out another huff, something that she seemed to be rather skilled at doing, and turned to Hermione. "Honestly, did you have to hit him so hard? All he did was make sure you were wearing knickers! I would appreciate a man who did such a thing for me!"

Did those women even know what they were saying? Hermione blinked several times before fighting back several fits of laughter at the insanity of the situation. Her eyes filled with tears up with the effort, and the women assumed that they were tears of shame.

"Serves you right," Morgana snapped, crossing her arms under her ample bosom. "The poor man doesn't deserve to be mistreated. Now…if I could come out of this painting," she added, turning to face Draco, who has now closed his eyes as though these were the last moments of his life, "I would never mistreat you."

"I know you wouldn't," he murmured, slowly opening the grey orbs to give her a deep, erotic look.

Hermione swore the woman wet her knickers when he directed the gaze to her. She let out several laughs, trying her hardest to hide them behind coughs.

All the while, nobody noticed as Faatima slipped out of the portrait…

"Feel bad, don't you?" the Fat Lady said, turning back to face Hermione, distracted from Draco's body by the sound. "You should; you hurt the poor bloke. Apologize!"

"No, I will be okay; she did not mean to hurt me!" Draco cried, throwing an arm over his forehead dramatically. "I was wrong! I should be apologizing!"

"Shut your pretty mouth and let the girl apologize," Morgana said, voice softening as she believed his dramatics.

Hermione rolled her eyes for the millionth time and suddenly grinned in a very mischievous manner. Had Draco been looking at her, he would have been both proud and terrified at what the smile might suggest.

Slowly placing the bags on the floor, she made her way over to him, stopping just a few inches in front of him. When he turned his gaze to her, he blinked rapidly in surprise and arched a brow at her questioningly.

Suddenly, she reached out and gripped his shirt, throwing her head back, causing her hair to flow around her face in a wild and very erotic – at least to him – manner. "Oh! Please! Please, Draco, forgive me!" she cried, tugging harder onto his shirt. "I am so very sorry for wounding you! Let me kiss you better!" She fell to her knees, forehead pressing against his navel as he gawked at her with unmasked surprise.

"Hermione…this isn't really necessary…" he mumbled, torn between arousal and embarrassment as the portraits watched on, clearly moved by this display of such heart-wrenching guilt.

"I am so terribly sorry!" she cried, pushing several tears out of her eyes for effect; she had learned as a child that the best way to get things from her dad was to cry. Although she never really utilized it – she preferred being stubborn and arguing until he became confused – she had practiced and perfected it. She began to trail her lips along his abs, slowly moving up to find the red mark she had left on his skin.

"Hermione," he gasped out, hands clenching by his side to resist the urge to dig them into her hair and push her mouth lower instead of higher.

"I'm sorry!" she sobbed softly, pressing her teeth against his convulsing skin, enjoying the feel of his flesh heating under her touch. This was going to be good…

Just as her lips met the spot she had hit, just as she dug her teeth into his flesh and twirled her tongue over the barely red skin, the door swung open, earning loud screams of anger from the women in the portrait.

"Now, if you two plan on keeping this relationship a secret, don't you think that doing things in a more private place might be wiser?"

Draco's head spun to face Blaise, who had wisely shut the door and was leaning against the wall, a smirk plastered onto his face. Draco's face mottled with red and he buried his face into his hands and Hermione grinned against his skin; she had noticed Faatima had left and knew that, if she had gone looking for help, the closest place would have been the Gryffindor common room.

She was also able to calculate that, the only person in the room intelligent enough to understand the scenario to a T, would be Blaise and that he would prevent anyone else from coming out to witness what he just had.

Biting down on his skin, she stood up in front of him, adjusting her clothes and fluffing her hair, before turning to give Blaise a broad smile.

"Hullo, Blaise, I trust you're doing well?"

"Hermione," Blaise replied, grin broadening, "I see that you are becoming more and more like a Slytherin with each passing day."

"Unfortunately," she said, moving over to pick up the discarded bags for the second time, "Draco has been a bit too influential. Fortunately," she added, "I, too, have been influential."

"So I see," Blaise said, turning to where Draco kept his face buried in his hand, unsure of whether he wanted to punch Blaise or thank him, all the while debating on how to deal with a certain hardened appendage in his pants that was pressing uncomfortably against his zipper. "Having fun?"

"Sod off," Draco snapped, pushing back his hair as he managed to compose his facial expressions.

"Why do you have your shirt open?"

"Ask the minx over there," Draco retorted, gesturing to Hermione before he began buttoning up his shirt.

"Minx? Really, now, I always thought of Hermione as more of a…lioness," Blaise replied thoughtfully, grinning as she blushed darkly. "Don't worry, I am not flirting with you," he added.

Nodding, she cleared her throat and rolled her shoulders, suddenly wishing that she could be anywhere else.

"So, please explain to me why my good mate over here had his shirt wide open."

"I wish that he could keep his shirt off all of the time!" the Fat Lady sighed loudly, causing Blaise to arch a brow as he began to calculate the situation.

"It's he such a gorgeous man?" Morgana said, leaning against the frame.

Faatima snuck back into the portrait and let out a cry of dismay as she saw Draco's almost completely buttoned up shirt. "No! Why would you want to cover such a lovely body?"

Blaise burst into a loud fit of laughter, having figured everything out, and was on the receiving end of various death-glares from Draco. He was quickly joined by Hermione as she giggled loudly.

"I hate you both," Draco grumbled, adjusting his clothes.

Blaise shrugged through his laughter and Hermione chuckled out the password, still laughing as the Fat Lady begrudgingly opened the door to them. Draco followed them in, glowering, trying his hardest to use his glare to make them pay.

He knew it wouldn't work, however; he, too, found the situation to be hilarious.

* * *

After quickly casting several silencing spells, Hermione and Draco had been swept into the sea of students filling the Gryffindor Common Room. Draco had made several remarks on how much red was being used and how it was rather painful to the eyes, while Hermione nudged him in the ribs multiple times, smiling to those that greeted them.

The Firewhiskey was placed on a nearby table of refreshments, alongside the Butterbeer and several signs telling underage students to stay away. Soon enough, Seamus and Dean swept down upon them, pulling them into the throng, talking and laughing, drinking and eating as they enjoyed the atmosphere. Hermione, while her first instinct was to find a quiet corner and read, couldn't help but admire the party; it was wild and boisterous, and yet, it was not too overwhelming. It eased into her, seeping slowly into her pores until she found herself smiling for no reason other than that she was content to be here.

Her foot would tap to the beat of the music that blared, her fingers drumming against her thigh as she listened to one of Dean's many Muggle-father-related stories. The poor man just couldn't get accustomed to having a wife and son as magical folk.

She had to admit, however, that the party just didn't have the exact same atmosphere as they used to; Fred and George weren't around giving out their joke toys, making people laugh, or doing the wildest things. There were, however, several items of reminiscence, reminding the students very much of the Weasley twins.

A few Weasley Wizard Wheezes' products lay about in various corners, from the fake wands to everlasting glitter bombs. The room was filled with students, from all Houses, and everybody was enjoying a good laugh here or there from one of the Weasley toys. The thumping music would occasionally be broken by loud sounds of explosions from the various items, followed by boisterous laughter that filled the air.

Some students were dancing, the tables that usually cluttered the space pushed aside to form the refreshment bar, the music beating out a perfect tempo for good, fast-paced dancing. On every hour, a large clock above the staircases would belt how the amount of time left until the midnight countdown, and everyone would avidly discuss just what they planned on doing, who they wanted to snog, and how much fun they would have in the coming year.

There was a sea of colour, every colour from every House blending together to form a rainbow of bodies, there were even several Slytherins who had either converted before the war or had never once held Purist ideals. Ravenclaws were talking to Slytherins, Hufflepuffs joking with Gryffindors, and there were even some Slytherins who dared take some steps towards forming relationships with Gryffindors. It was, Hermione had to admit, a miraculous sight.

Standing by the refreshment bar, popping a few carrots into her mouth, she listened as Seamus told her a story involving him, his mum, and a grocery market that had experienced very 'magical' events.

The scent of autumn reached her nose before he was even behind her; even though the room smelt of sweat, candies, cakes, and pine, she would always smell him above every other powerful scent.

"Hermione, I need to speak with you."

Turning slightly to glance up at him, she gave him a quizzical look, to which he responded by saying it was Head business. Say several excuses to Dean, she allowed Draco to lead her into a secluded corner where they could talk without being interrupted.

"What's the matter?"

He gave her a severe look, letting her know that she knew exactly what the problem was. The only thing is; she had no idea what he was talking about.

"We seem to be having Firewhiskey-related issues," he said, and she knew exactly what he was talking about now. "It appears that several students who have drunk the Firewhiskey claim that there is no alcohol in it. You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?"

"How old were the students?" She had to be sure everything was working correctly.

"Every single one of them was underage. All students of age or older are getting happily drunk from it. The underage students want to know why there's no alcohol in theirs. Again, you wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?" He gave her a pointed look, arms crossed as he waited patiently for her response.

"_THIRTY MINUTES!"_ the clock belted out, briefly interrupting her thoughts, causing her think of just how fast time was going by.

Smiling at him, she shrugged her shoulders and decided that smugness and arrogance might make it easier talking about it with him as opposed to feigning innocence. "I charmed the bottles."

"You what?!"

"Anti-alcohol spell," she replied with another shrug. "It was quite simple; I just needed to touch all of the bottles."

"And what does this spell do?" he asked after taking a deep breath.

"Every underage person who tries to drink the Firewhiskey will automatically cause it to be alcohol-free the second they touch the bottle."

"Why?"

Placing her hips on her hips, she gave him a stare in return. "You know very well that I just can't sit by and let students drink illegally! I refuse to get in trouble with McGonagall and possibly lose my Head status. So I charmed the bottles so there would be no harm done, everyone can have good, clean fun, and nobody will get in trouble."

"The whole point of drinking Firewhiskey is to get sloshed!" Draco replied sharply. "Besides, you promised to put up a sign!"

"And I put up the sign," she answered, gesturing to said object. "But I never promised not to tamper with the bottles; I just said that I wouldn't yell at anyone, take off House points, give detention, or ruin the party. Does it look like I've ruined the party for anyone?"

Draco looked around the room, watching the students laugh and dance, sing and talk, completely oblivious or ignoring the fact that the Firewhiskey lost all alcohol when touched by someone underage. There were a few grimaces here or there whenever someone took an swig of the alcohol-free beverage, but it occupied their minds for less than a second before someone came and diverted their attention.

"See?" Hermione said, waving to the room with her hand. "We stay out of trouble, they stay out of the trouble, and I won't feel guilty over anything."

Sighing heavily, he rubbed his face with his hand. He should have known that she would have found a loophole in their agreement and exploited it. Then again, he thought, she was the brightest witch in the world for a reason, and he should have known better than to try and force her to ignore underage drinking.

He hated to admit it, but he was still learning about her just as she was uneducated in things about him. It was only a matter of time before they truly understood one another.

"You are too smart for your own good," he said with a sigh, knowing that there was no point to fighting this. They turned and headed back into the party, aiming for the couches by the fireplace, where Seamus was engaged in a very avid conversation with a few fourth years, as well as several Ravenclaws and a gaggle of Hufflepuff girls.

Hermione simply shrugged and smiled over to Lisa Turpin, who sent her a wave from across the room where she stood with Mandy Brocklehurst and Zacharias Smith. Returning the wave, Hermione was pleased to find two empty seats on the couch, recently vacated by a Gryffindor third year couple.

Collapsing on the couch, Draco leaned over and summoned two large cups of punch, handing one to Hermione and downing the other in a few seconds flat.

"You never told me how you managed to cast it on all of the bottles," he said after a moment's peace, leaning in close so she could hear without needing to yell.

"When I was taking them out of the fridge," she replied with a shine in her eyes.

Blaise joined them moments later, leaning on the back of the couch to look down on them, and fiddled playfully with Draco's hair.

"Oy, no snogging," he said, keeping his voice low enough so that the others wouldn't hear. "I've had enough of finding you two in weird positions as it is."

Hermione blushed brightly, focusing intently on her punch, while Draco grinned broadly.

"It's not my fault that you have horrible timing," the blond replied.

"I'm not the one who took off my shirt in order to get into the Gryffindor Common Room," Blaise pointed out, unable to hide his grin.

"Oh, sod off," Draco snapped. "Hermione told me to do it."

The man's grin widened and he looked almost scary as he stared at Hermione, who was trying her hardest to think about the punch and will the scary-looking Slytherin away.

"Oh, Hermione! I'm so proud of you!" Blaise cried, lifting an arm for emphasis. "You are becoming more and more like a Slytherin! How wonderful! Now tell me, what exactly did you say so that the prat took off his shirt?"

"I believe you already told me I'm growing more and more like a Slytherin," she replied, still staring at the punch, her cheeks as red as a Weasley family member's hair.

"Quite right," Blaise replied, leaning closer. "But, please, tell me how you got him to take off his shirt; it might come in handy."

Sighing softly, she took a drink, hoping that the cool beverage would lower the temperature of her flaming face. "I told him that it would distract the Fat Lady."

"Brilliant!" Blaise cried as Draco shoved his face into his palm. "And it worked wonderfully! Oh, Draco has some delicious, rippling abs, does he not? I suppose that's what made those lovely ladies so excited."

"Oy, Blaise, sod off or I'll remind the others of our initiation," Draco threatened as the clock shouted that it was ten-to midnight.

As opposed to sobering, Blaise's expression remained the exact same. "They've already reminded me," he replied, gesturing to where Dean sat, most definitely flirting with a Ravenclaw sixth year named Elyssa. "Dean told me that we would be initiated after midnight."

"I'm looking forward to it," Draco said sarcastically, getting up. "I'm hungry."

Hermione would have snapped at him if it weren't for the fact that her stomach was grumbling rather loudly and uncomfortably. Nodding, as though to state that she, too, was hungry, she got to her feet and followed him out of the maze of couches and students.

Blaise trailed behind, watching the students around them, enjoying the party atmosphere.

"I suppose it's safe to assume," he began as they reached the refreshment table, "that you two will not be kissing at midnight."

"Not unless there is some situation that we can't get out of unless we kiss," Hermione replied, placing several pieces of cheese on a plate.

Draco nodded, his mouth too full to speak coherently.

"Well then," Blaise said, grabbing a chip and munching on it, "I suppose, just to spite you, my dearest Drakey, I might steal a kiss from Miss Granger."

"No!"

"What?"

"WHY?!"

He laughed at their comical reactions, watching as Hermione's face reddened with embarrassment and Draco's flooded with obvious envy and irritation. He continued to laugh as their reactions slowly changed from annoyance to perplexity.

"What's the matter with you, mate?" Draco asked, food forgotten about.

"I just wanted to see how you would react," Blaise laughed. "So wonderful…I thought you would kill me!"

"ONE MINUTE!"

"Already?" Hermione asked, pushing her plate aside, watching as a tray magically appeared on an open spot, several empty glasses popping into place on top of it, as other trays of the same sort appeared beside it.

Draco eyed her as she stared at the two bottles of champagne that appeared in the air and began filling every glass on the table. "It's tradition, Hermione," he said before she could glare. "One glass will not hurt anyone; parents, Muggle and wizard alike, always give out champagne on New Year's."

Blaise looked closer at the label and grimaced. "Ugh, it's not even elf made, and it's recent. It's not going to be as good as the ones mum has in the stores."

"It's from the school, what do you expect?" Draco replied, putting his plate down as they neared the thirty second mark.

Blaise suddenly grinned and reached over to pull Hermione to him. "Oh, mi cara, please, give me a delicious little kiss when that clock strikes midnight."

Just as she was bracing herself to pull back against his hold, she found an invisible barrier keeping her held in place. Blaise let out a quiet curse and tried to tug her over again, disappointment clearly written on his face when he discovered he could not pull her any closer. Turning his gaze to Draco, he arched a brow and asked; "Are you performing some shield spell on her?"

Clearly confused, both at the question and the fact that Hermione could not move more than two feet away from him, he shook his head. "No, I didn't do anything; I was just going to yank her back."

"Try to move away from her," Blaise said suddenly.

Draco frowned at his friend but complied, turning around to try and walk a few feet away. He managed to move about a foot before his body was slammed into an invisible wall. "Bloody hell, what is that?"

When Hermione let out a rather loud squeak, blocking out the clock as it began to countdown the last twenty seconds of 2008, Draco spun around, expecting to find some prankster keeping a shield in place around the duo. Instead, he found Hermione's eyes fixed on the ceiling, all blood drained from her face as Blaise stood on the side, torn between fits of laughter and serious looks.

Following Hermione's gaze, his eyes fell on a green plant with bright red berries hanging from the ceiling, right above where they stood.

"Bloody hell! Where did they get mistletoe?"

"What are we going to do?" Hermione cried, clearly torn at the thought of possibly outing their relationship before she had a chance to tell her friends about it. "We can't snog in front of everyone."

"And we can't spend the rest of the night standing here," Draco pointed out, clearly torn between the giddy thought that he could kiss his Hermione and the idea that it just might ruin her friendships.

"Midnight," she thought quickly as the clock reached the final ten seconds, every student in the room stopping to shout down the numbers.

"We can kiss and make excuses," he added, mind working on overdrive for a possible solution that everyone would understand.

"No one will be the wiser," she said, moving closer to him, gently placing her hands on his chest.

"FIVE!"

"Besides, they will be too focused on other stuff to look at us," he added, lifting his hands to cup her face.

"FOUR!"

"I won't do any harm; we have no choice." Their breath mingled, mouths moving closer.

"THREE!"

"Are you sure about this?" He watched her eyes flutter shut, loving the way her lashes shadowed her cheeks.

"TWO!"

"If anyone complains, we just blame it on the mistletoe," she finished.

"ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Their lips met, soft and perfect, like two puzzle pieces coming together as the New Year set in. They were surrounded by noise and cries, shouting and laughter, and the sounds in the room became mixed together, one loud noise that they were quickly able to push away as their lips moved against one another. The colours, the brilliant hues that filled the room, swirled in their vision, a rainbow vortex as his tongue dared to slip past her lips for just one little taste of heaven. Every smell was shoved out and they enveloped each other in their scents, drinking them in as they tasted the other, both a mixture of cheeses, Butterbeer, and gingerbread, each with their own personal flavour that only added to their hunger for one another. His was mint, a peppermint of sorts that made her think of Christmas festivities and his gum, and she always tasted like apples, soft and crisp that made his mouth water even more for a taste of her.

So it was, as the clock struck twelve and the oblivious students around screamed and kissed one another's cheeks, as Blaise went over and gave Dean and Seamus brotherly hugs, that apples met mint in a kiss that encompassed more love than anyone could ever understand.

She pulled away reluctantly, her heart hammering in her ribs, desire rearing its head as she fought back its pull, and she half-opened her eyes, watching the way his face flushed, the way his lips parted take in as much air as possible. She loved the way his lips looked so much softer, so much redder, after they kissed. She loved the way his eyes always stayed shut for a little bit longer, as though he wanted to remain in the moment for as long as possible before returning to reality.

Leaning up, she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, moving closer to his ear to whisper softly, "Happy New Year."

His eyes slowly opened, and he grinned down at her, wanting to kiss for the rest of his life, and ran a hand through her unbelievably soft hair. "Happy New Year."

"Oy! Check this out!"

Their heads spun, narrowly missing one another's as a student shouted and pointed to them, hand moving from their bodies to the mistletoe and back, and they watched with horror as every student in the room turned to gawk.

Taking in deep breaths, the duo glanced at one another before setting their jaws. They would deal with everything when it was the time and both knew that now was not the time. Excuses ready, they pulled away, and began to say as many as possible to protect their love.

They knew, however, that when the time came, excuses would not be enough. For now, though, they would be more than sufficient.

* * *

**There we go, done this one. Sorry it took a while, I sort of spent Sunday doing heroic dungeons on WoW and I've also been studying for midterms and writing essays. Why do I have something due every week?! Ugh, so lame.**

**I'm going to try and get the next chapter up as soon as possible. It may take a while, but I'll do my best. **

**Review overview:**

**Love/adoration = always, always, always appreciated. It makes me write faster!**

**Flames = blah, you suck. Go ahead and flame it you want, I will show them to Hermione and she will hex you and then go off and shag Draco senseless!!!**

**Critical criticism/editing = very much appreciate and encouraged. I always want to know what I could do to improve my writing, and it doesn't hurt to have another set of eyes point out little mistakes I've made. **

**Thank you for reading!**


	4. Gryffindork Allies

**Just to let you all know, this story will slowly start getting more serious. We have a little bit of fluffy comedy left before the students return and Hermione and Draco are thrust into a very serious, very dramatic world. **

**Also, my mid-term exams are over! But I still have essays to do. Urgh. Fun, fun, University is so much fun…..NOT!**

**A little note: sorry it took me so long to get this up. I've been very sick for the past few days (no, not H1N1, lol, just a really bad cold), and I've been sleeping a lot. I've also been trying to raid a bit more on WoW, since I don't do it very often (you could say that I'm afraid of disappointing my guildies 'cause I'm not that geared.)**

**Oh yeah…another reason why this has taken so long: I started playing Suikoden Tierkreis on my DS (got the ROM) and I have become obsessed and will not put the thing down. Seriously. I played until 2 am the other night. Not smart, especially coming off of a cold and when I should be spending my time writing my essay on the uses of garlic in antiquity (let's just say that Pliny and Theophrastus are fun to read).**

**So, again, I'm sorry it has taken so long. I've also come up with a fun, side-story Sexcapades couple thing for this Christmas. It will be funny, don't worry. For those of you who haven't read Sexcapades, it's a lemon-trilogy of Draco/Hermione goodness (Morning Shower, Revenge of the Muggle-Born, and Spontaneity and Excitement) I wrote a while back. I love the couple and I thought it would be fun to do a Christmas fic with them.**

**Just think: Draco dressed as Santa Claus. ^.^**

**Random disclaimer: Some Descartes-based-saying for everyone (if you can tell me what he originally says, you gets a cookie): I own nothing, therefore I am poor. **

**Another little disclaimer thing (I keep adding these things on, haha): minor smut at the end, but not really detailed or anything. I kind of just...put it there. May seem a little out of place with the rest, but I just didn't feel like having more silliness at the end of the chapter. So there is love-smut.  
**

**Chapter 4**

**Gryffindork Allies  
**

"Why were you two snogging?"

"Are you together now?"

"Are you in love?"

"Is this why he's been sitting at the Gryffindor table?"

"Have you shagged each other?"

"Why?"

The questions swirled in her mind and any excuse she had had in the past flew far away to hide in a dark corner. She had had them ready, knew to point the blame on the mistletoe, but this little taste of overwhelming chaos removed all reason from her mind. She had never been a victim of so many questions, so many stares; she had endured the pain of Fourth year, had dealt with the rumours of the past, but none caused so many inquisitorial gazes as this simple kiss had.

She reeled on the spot as several students demanded to know how long they had been together, others asking whether or not they had shagged and if they planned on staying together.

"What about Harry and Ron? Do they know?"

Her heart clenched with pain at the words, body shaking as fear began to consume her senses. What if Harry and Ron heard about this? What if they found out? This wasn't just some little kiss; this was her kissing _Draco Malfoy_, their enemy for so many years, their opponent in everything from schoolwork to Quidditch. There was a big difference between a kiss with just anyone and a kiss shared with Draco Malfoy.

What was she going to do? Despair threatened to overwhelm her as she realized the severity of the situation. It was true, there were many people here who would accept their relationship; they saw and understood his changes in character since their sixth year. But there were many more, those who controlled the gossip circles, those who reigned above the others and set the law, who would not approve.

"Oy, Draco, since when have you been shagging this little Gryffindor?"

"Does Pansy know?"

"What do the other Slytherins think of it?"

He would be in trouble, too, she dimly realized, staring blearily at the mass of students. Who knew what the Slytherins would do? She knew that Blaise would be on her side, and had heard rumours of Goyle's increasing kindness and tolerance towards Muggles and Muggle-Borns, but would the other Slytherins really join him? They were a cunning lot, vicious when it came to revenge and getting what they wanted, and she knew that some of them did _not_ want for her and Draco to be together.

'_Sweet Circe, what am I supposed to do? How are we going to survive this?'_ she moaned internally, knowing that this chaos, this demand for answers, was just the beginning of the storm that was to come.

Draco moved beside her, his hand lifting to point into the air, while he subtly hit her shoulder with his elbow, tugging her out of her state of despairing thoughts. His voice was loud, almost rude, and definitely laced with annoyance.

"Who's the idiot that brought charmed mistletoe?"

She blinked rapidly, trying to push through the fog that had swirled in her mind, clearing her thoughts as she thought for control. She never let herself go, never let any despairing thoughts take over her mind, and she wouldn't let it happen now. He hadn't let the crowd overwhelm him; he had pushed back, almost in a threatening manner, daring them to question him and his actions. She, too, would push back. She would lean on him for support and strength just as he would lean on her.

They would fight this together; she couldn't succumb to her fears.

Raw determination filtered through her veins, pushing away the darkness and giving way to the light of power. She wouldn't let anyone, friends or not, tell her who to love or kiss, and she would definitely punish the idiot who decided it would be brilliant to sneak in charmed mistletoe.

"Well?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips, staring at the crowd with renewed determination. "Who brought the mistletoe?"

The crowd fell silent for a moment before buzzing questions arose, heads turning to stare at each other as every person attempted to find an answer to the question. Who had brought the mistletoe? It was charmed? It that why they kissed?

"I did."

Hermione's eyes widened with shock as Seamus stepped through the crowd, a bright blush making his cheeks glow.

"Why?" The couple asked in unison, not even daring to blush from the looks the crowd gave them.

"I thought it would make things a little more festive. I swear, Dean and I had no idea they were charmed," Seamus replied, humble enough to slump his shoulders and kick at the ground a little bit.

"How are they charmed?"

Several people had posed the question at once, a melody of the words rising and falling in the crowd, and Draco heaved a sigh.

"Unless two family members meet under the mistletoe, the couple who meet are obliged to kiss each other on the mouth. Family members kiss each other on the cheek. You cannot move away from the mistletoe until you have kissed, and the charm on them will be broken," he explained calmly and clearly, as though trying to explain addition and subtraction to a six-year-old.

"That's why you snogged?" Again, spoken by several people in the crowd.

"Yes, although I wouldn't consider it snogging, just a small kiss to break the spell. We couldn't move away unless we did it," Hermione replied, letting out several quiet breaths of relief as the crowd began to consider the explanation and the truthfulness behind it.

"Let's see an example."

She was going to _kill_ that Ravenclaw third year!

Blaise suddenly pushed through the crowd, grinning broadly. "I will show them!"

Draco glared at Blaise, wanting to do nothing but rip out his friend's tongue at the thought of him kissing _his_ Hermione. Unfortunately, lady luck was not on their side; just as Draco pushed Hermione away from the mistletoe, Blaise stepped in.

"No!"

"Wait!"

Hermione spun around; eyes wide with shock as she saw what could have been one of the worst sights ever. Draco and Blaise, standing under the mistletoe, both clearly at a loss when they found themselves stuck in the invisible barrier of the plant's charm.

Seamus grinned suddenly, and Hermione swore she heard several giggles erupt for many of the girls in the common room. Dean let out a rather loud whoop, and she heard Dennis fumbling for his camera to the right of her.

She, all the while, stared flabbergasted as Draco and Blaise finally gave up trying to penetrate the barrier and stared at each other with despair.

"I am _not_ kissing you!" Draco snapped.

"That's quite good, because I don't want to kiss you either," Blaise retorted, leaning back on the table.

"Oy! Kiss each other!"

"Not with Creevey and his damn camera around," Draco said, gesturing to the boy.

"Not for a thousand galleons," Blaise added with a note of finality in his voice.

"I'm not worth a thousand galleons?"

"That's pocket money," Blaise said with a wave of his hand and Draco nodded in response. "Now, if someone were to offer me a million galleons…I would consider it."

"How about for your freedom?" Dean piped up, grinning mischievously.

"No way."

"Never."

"We'll just wait for Professor Flitwick."

"Do you honestly think he'll be in any mood to come and 'free' you at this hour?" Seamus pointed out, still smiling.

"He makes a good point!"

"Kiss!! Kiss!!"

Hermione had no idea why or how, but the crowd suddenly went from shocked at Hermione and Draco's kiss, to overly excited at the thought of Draco and Blaise kissing. She couldn't help but selfishly thank fate for this gift, giving her the reprieve she needed to collect herself and possibly create gossip that would definitely be deemed more important than her kiss she shared with Draco.

"We'll consider it to be part of your initiation," Dean said loudly, crossing his arms and leaning against a nearby wall.

"I don't want to consider it at all," Draco cried, face reddening with embarrassment at being caught in such a silly situation. "I want to avoid kissing him!"

"It will have ta be on the lips," Seamus reminded them, grin broadening with the thought. "Oh boy, Dennis, have yer camera ready for this one, this is going to one 'ell of a picture!"

Dennis grinned at Draco, lifting the camera, knowing fully well that the blond could not hurt him for the moment. However, he never once considered that, once the picture was taken and the kiss exchanged, Draco would be free to punish the boy as he saw fit.

Hermione sighed heavily, watching as Blaise and Draco stubbornly crossed their arms and spun away from each other, determined to do anything but the one thing that would free them.

"Look," she said, moving over to them, ignoring the jeers and cries of the rowdy students. "You have two choices: kiss and get free, or sit here and wait until the morning when Flitwick is awake and ready to perform the counter-spell."

"I refuse to kiss him!" the two men shouted in unison, pointing at each other.

Rolling her eyes, she heaved another loud sigh. "Have fun waiting for Professor Flitwick to show up; I'm not waiting."

"Fuck me," Draco growled, digging his fingers into his scalp, pacing in the little space he had.

"What do we do?" Blaise whined in an unnaturally high-pitched voice. "I don't want to snog you, but I also do not want to wait until the morning." He turned to face Hermione. "Can't you just come and intervene or something? Can't someone just come under the mistletoe and interrupt it?"

Hermione looked over for someone in the crowd who might know more on this subject than her; she didn't usually read up on charmed mistletoe. When there was no response, she shrugged. "I suppose I could try…"

Taking a step forward, she took in a deep breath, wondering whether the shield might send her flying back with enough force to slam her into a wall. Swallowing thickly, she moved to step between Draco and Blaise, and found herself slammed against a solid, yet invisible, wall.

"Bloody hell," she cursed, holding her nose that had nearly cracked on the thick shield.

Draco immediately moved forward, reaching out to touch her and make sure that she was okay, but he was repelled by the same invisible wall that prevented him from moving more than two to three feet away from Blaise. Cursing softly under his breath, he ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Are you okay?" The words were almost snapped and she knew that his patience was fraying at the seams. Neither of them had expected to be stuck in this particular scenario.

"I'm fine," she replied, rubbing the bridge of her nose, squeezing it softly as though it would alleviate the faint throbbing.

"Good, can you go and get Professor Flitwick?"

"No!" she cried, glaring at him. "I am not going to wake up a Professor because you two are daft enough to get stuck under a piece of enchanted mistletoe together. Either you kiss or you sit there the whole night, those are your options and they will not change until you make a decision."

Growling in frustration, he rubbed his face, spinning on the spot, unable to find a way out of this that did not involve waiting all night or embarrassing himself by kissing the bloke next to him, which is something he really did not want to do.

Blaise heaved a sigh, still leaning against the table, rubbing his temples as he tried to figure out some way out of this damning situation. The only solutions he could find, however, were the two listed by Hermione. He knew that she made a point; if they went and spoke with Professor Flitwick, there would first be several questions posed on why they were hosting such a boisterous party, and then he would inquire as to how they got a hold of the mistletoe. Not one soul in the room could feign that they were the creator of the spell, or they would know the counter-spell. Then, there would be the repercussions, which he really did not like the idea of.

"Draco," he said, rubbing his face. "We have no choice…"

Draco opened and closed his mouth several times before finding words, and his hands immediately found their way into his pockets defensively and his shoulders tensed. "I…we can't give up…there has to be something…"

Shaking his head, Blaise took the first step forward. "There's nothing we can do."

"Fucking bloody fucking hell," Draco swore, repeating the expletives several times with such fervor that it even made Seamus blush. "I really don't like this."

"Neither do I, but does it look like we have any choice in the matter?"

"I fucking hate mistletoe," the blond cursed, finally standing eye to eye with Blaise.

"So do I."

Silence filled the room, impatience thickening the air as the students instinctively leaned forward, anxious to see two of the most wanted blokes in the school snog right in front of them. Dennis gripped his camera, unable to hide the mischievous grin that had slid its way onto his way, Seamus rocking back and forth with anticipation. She heard several girls sigh loudly or giggle, unable to contain their excitement at the thought of their wildest dreams coming true.

It was rather…anti-climatic, to say the least. It was brief, a quick meeting of the lips that resulted with loud spitting sounds, clearing of the throat, and demands for water, water, and more water. All in all, it lasted for about a second and it was quite obvious that disappointment quickly filled the room.

That was until Dennis produced the photograph with a quick spell.

Girls screamed, boys laughed, and a ruckus rose up that could have rivaled the party atmosphere from just moments ago. Seamus clapped Draco on the back, causing the blond to choke on his fourth glass of water, while Dean could not stop laughing at Blaise. The twosome, the couple of the night, could not fight the blushes of embarrassment and could find no way to appear 'manly' after what they had just done.

"You taste like fish," Draco snapped, gargling loudly.

"Well," Blaise retorted, "you taste like old cheese."

"That's because I was eating cheese."

"And I taste like fish because I was eating your mother."

"That's just wrong!"

"But it felt so right."

Hermione groaned loudly, pushing her way between the two before they decided to butcher each other. "Stop it," she cried. "Nobody has to mention anyone's mum, or cheese, or fish, although I'm not sure why performing…_that_ on a woman would cause your breath to smell like fish…but, can we just stop? It's done, you're free, and I'm certain that neither of you will stand together under the mistletoe again. Am I right?"

Draco sent one final glare to Blaise, before tossing back a nearby flute of champagne, and turned to Hermione. "Worst experience of my life."

"Same goes for me!" Blaise called.

"But it was so brilliant to watch," Seamus chuckled loudly, clutching his sides as his body shook with laughter. "And Dennis's photo…beyond brilliant!"

Water flew in all directions – along with a few bits of crackers – that had Hermione letting out several loud threats as she dodged as much of the liquid and crumbs as she could.

"Photo?"

She swore that, in that very instant, both men before her turned into raging he-beasts and were probably ready to turn into the Incredible Hulk and pummel poor little Dennis into a pulp. Blaise's eyes flashed darkly, teeth bared menacingly, while Draco's eyes turned into violent storms and his body shook with the effort not to strangle the poor boy that very instant.

Sighing heavily, she rubbed her face as much as she dared – she did not want to ruin the make-up she had painstakingly put on – and bit back several curses. "Yes," she heaved, "he took a picture, and do not act like it's the end of the bloody world. It's a bloody photograph."

"Of us!"

"Snogging!"

"It must be destroyed!"

"I will destroy both of your bloody bollocks if either of you touch that poor boy," Hermione snapped, pointing at the duo for emphasis. "Do you understand me?"

Both men stopped in the tracks, frozen solid amiss the chaos that had followed the 'kiss,' staring with disbelief at the brunette.

"You wouldn't…"

"She would, mate, she definitely would," Draco answered Blaise, wondering just how he would manage to placate his woman and throttle the Creevey boy.

"Just leave Dennis alone," she sighed, crossing her arms under her breasts. "I'll try to convince him to give me the photo and you can dispose of it, but I do not want either of you laying a finger on him, understood?"

Blaise glanced over to Draco, arching a brow in a combination of humor and shock. "So this is how the woman keeps you in line, isn't it? First she threatens you and then she compromises…blood hell, it's brilliant."

Draco glared at Blaise, specifically annoyed at the idea that Hermione controlled him. Oh no, it was not that way at all. If anyone did any controlling, he was the one in charge, not her. Draco Malfoy would never let some woman control him.

Ignoring Blaise's remark, she sent a pointed gaze to the men. "Do we have a…"

"Oy! Mates!" Seamus flew out of nowhere, having disappeared for a while to watch the distribution of the soon-to-be-infamous Draco snogging Blaise photo. "Now that ye've snogged, we only have a little initiation thing for ye. Dean and I figure that the snogging can count as more than half of ye initiation." Without warning, he grabbed both of their arms and yanked the two unsuspecting men into the middle of the throng, crying out something about beginning the second half immediately.

"Bloody hell," Hermione muttered in resignation, wishing that they had just stayed in the Heads' Tower as opposed to enduring this chaos. "This is mental."

It was quite true, she thought as she made her way through the crowd, pushing past giggle girls and bragging boys, wishing that she were anywhere else at this point in time. She wasn't sure exactly when the chaos had begun, when insanity had finally taken over the students, but a part of her knew that insanity had controlled this realm from the very beginning.

The night was far from the usual, taking one unexpected, mental turn after the other. First, she had no idea what had gotten her to suggest Draco strip for the women in the painting, nor what had compelled her to even consider 'kissing' the man better. She had thought normalcy had returned when they had kissed, perhaps even before that, when calamity and sanity seemed to be in charge of the Common Room and its occupants. But, from the moment they had separated from their kiss until now, she could easily say that something unreasonable was taking hold of every being in the area.

It had to have been the party-like atmosphere, the thrumming beats of music, the excitement levels that had flooded when the clock struck twelve and the unthinkable had occurred. It was as though the moment their lips met, the chaos and insanity of the single thought that Hermione and Draco were in a relationship had consumed every sane, intelligent mind.

Save for, she had to admit as she watched Dennis move a good distance away from Draco and Blaise, a select few. Of course, those select few were the few who knew the truth about Hermione and Draco, and perhaps they were immune to the chaotic effects.

Head beginning to hurt, she rubbed her right temple as she pushed through the edge of the crowd, finding Draco and Blaise standing at the center of a circle of students, looking like they were about to be executed.

Curiosity took over any sensible thought in her body and she watched as Seamus raised his arms for emphasis.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he cried, "I demand silence!"

Rolling her eyes at the rather flamboyant and over-the-top words he had chosen, she let out a quiet snort before turning her gaze to watch with a mixture of fascination and annoyance.

Surprisingly enough, every student in the vicinity shut their mouths and watched with bated breath. Her eyes turned heavenwards a second time and prayed that this reaction would not go to poor Seamus's ego.

"Tonight, we have a special treat for all of ye!" She swore he probably imagined himself wearing some long, billowing black and red cape. "Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, two Slytherins, have agreed to go through the initiation process to become Gryffindor allies!"

Allies? Was the boy going mental? He sounded unbelievably silly.

There were several loud cheers, hands pumping in the air, hooting and shouting and several feet stamping loudly on the ground. She swore that they could wake the dead with that racket, and she suddenly feared that McGonagall might wake up and appear at any moment.

That would not be fun, although it would save her from the torture of enduring this chaotic mess of a party for much longer.

"With the start of a new year," Dean added, moving forward to stand beside Seamus, "we start new friendships and alliances. No longer will we let our ancestors' bias and hatred determine our friends. From this day forth, we will consider Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini as friends of Gryffindor…as soon as their initiation is complete," he added with a wink.

Groaning inwardly, she resisted the urge to turn away, hide in a corner and become engrossed in a book, but she had promised to stick through this with Draco to the very end, no matter how embarrassing or asinine things became.

"What are you going to do?" cried several Gryffindors, eyes glowing with excitement.

"Well," Seamus replied, a mischievous glow to his eyes, "we thought that they could learn the song."

"Which one?"

"Our lovely Gryffindor Lions chant. Since they came up with their own…butchered…version, we thought it would be good for them to learn and sing our song."

Hermione watched Draco and Blaise's faces, noting the way the lines faded as they realized that this 'initiation' would not be as difficult as they thought it would be. She knew better, however; she was a Gryffindor through and through, and she knew that they would not be getting off all that easily.

"How long is the song?" Blaise asked, relief evident in every line of his face.

"Not long," Dean replied. "But," he added, turning to the crowd for effect, "there is more!"

"More?" the Slytherin boys squawked.

"Not only must you learn and sing the song, but you must be dressed for the occasion! You must be dressed like fierce Gryffindor lions and wave the flags of Gryffindor!"

Dressed as lions…? Was Dean drunk? Had Seamus been taking illegal drugs? Why the hell did those two have to dress as lions?

Although…Hermione had to admit it, the image of Blaise and Draco wearing lion costumes made her fight back fits of giggles. It was even better because she imagined them with rather grumpy expressions that only made the mental image even more priceless.

"And for every time you are off key or miss a word," Seamus continued, "you must kiss and take off a piece of clothing!"

"We'll be wearing costumes, that's not clothing!" Draco snapped, unable to contain his irritation.

"Yes," Seamus replied with a wag of his finger, "but, costumes come in pieces, the head, the body, the tail, the bottom, all different pieces. There aren't many, so try to keep the mistakes to a minimum."

Blaise cleared his throat loudly, trying to find some kind of loophole or mistake the boys had made in the rules. "We do not know the song; you cannot expect us to get everything right on the first try."

"He's right," Draco added with a nod, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. "We must have a minimum of tries before you can start counting mistakes."

"Give them five tries."

The boys turned to stare at Hermione, who currently stood with her hands on hips, eyeing the group like she thought that they had all gone mental. Dean sent her a questioning gaze and she developed on her sentence. "Give them five tries to learn the song before you begin the initiation. It should give them enough practice to learn the song."

"Hermione," Draco groaned, wishing that the woman could have just made up some excuse about Heads' business and had saved him from his torment. But no, instead she went along and only helped the damn Gryffindors out. Damn her…

"Sounds fair enough to me," Dean said, receiving a nod of approval from Seamus. "Alright, Seamus, you take Blaise, I'll teach Draco." With that said, the Gryffindors yanked at their 'students' and pulled them off to a corner, beginning to teach the boys the Gryffindor theme song, the words of which Hermione did not even know.

Moving over to the couch and sitting down before the crowd managed to take over the seats, she sighed heavily and closed her eyes, wishing that the night could be over sooner rather than later. She knew that she had promised to show Draco her old dorm, she knew that she promised to stick with him through this, and she had even promised her fellow Gryffindors that would stay for the whole thing, but she couldn't help wishing that she had had some excuse to leave.

It was getting a little too silly for her.

The couch sagged beside her and she opened her eyes, turning to look at Dennis.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"You want to see the picture?" Dennis grinned.

Her lips twitched into a phantom smile and she couldn't help but lift her hand out to receive the image. "Why not?"

She examined the damning piece of evidence, listening to Draco and Blaise's off-key versions of the Gryffindor Quidditch team theme song. She had to admit, Dennis had taken the picture at the right moment. Draco's lips were just pressing against Blaise's, both of their eyes scrunched shut, arms plastered to their sides. Draco's hair was just slightly unruly while Blaise's cheeks held a brilliant glow to them that she knew was the blush of embarrassment. Any person, however, who had not been present at the time, would think that Draco and Blaise were in fact gladly snogging each other.

"I took another one," Dennis said suddenly, tearing her gaze away from the photograph. "No one knows about this one, though," he added on a whisper, switching the image in her hand with another one.

She was unable to stop herself from smiling; it was a picture of Hermione and Draco kissing under the mistletoe. She had to admit; Dennis was a wonderful photographer. The relaxed look on Draco's face, the way his skin glowed, gave him an angelic appearance, while her cheeks were flushed brightly, hair cascading down her back in a golden-brown waterfall. Their lips were meeting, pressing gently but urgently against each other, arms reaching out to pull each other closer, to press every body part together, unable to pull apart.

"You can keep it," Dennis said. "As a little memento of your first kiss with Draco in the new year."

Smiling at him, she pocketed the image, and leaned over to give the boy a hug. "You're too kind, Dennis."

"Thank you," he mumbled, cheeks flushed from the compliment.

"You really are a wonderful photographer," she added, reaching over to ruffle his hair in a sisterly fashion.

Just as he mumbled his second thank you, a loud cheer rose up and their attention was instantly switched to the center of the Common Room, where Draco and Blaise stood in matching lion outfits. The only visible parts of their bodies were their faces, surrounded by wild halos of tan fur, bodies covered in the fuzzy outfits, from their heads to their toes, where the paws were even gifted with small claws. The tails swished, probably charmed to move, tufts of fur sticking out oddly at the end of the tails.

She couldn't help it; she burst out laughing, their scowls growing deeper, eyes flashing harder at the sound of her laughter. Heaving for air, she wiped several tears from her eyes and tried her hardest not to stare at the comical sight; she would end up in more fits of laughter and did not know if she would have the will power to stop herself before she peed her pants.

She heard Dennis clicking away with his camera, taking picture after picture, knowing fully well that the boys couldn't dare go near him without provoking her wrath. Several students giggled loudly, girls burst into fits here and there, some squealing with excitement at the sight of the two men dressed as 'ferocious' lions. She swore she heard a couple girls wondering if the men roared when excited.

The entire male body shouted with laughter; nothing less was expected from every single testosterone filled man in the room. The image of the two powerful, serious, fashionable, and rich men dressed up as lions was more than enough to create several stitches in their sides.

"We present you," cried Seamus with much pomp and circumstance, "Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, two ferocious Gryffindor lions! They will now grace us with a song."

The following silence was deafening; it was as though every body in the room refused to make a single sound lest they miss a part of the song that was currently not being sung. The men looked back and forth at each other, wondering with their eyes whether this was the signal to begin the song.

Shrugging, they began a new rendition of the song "Weasley is our King" with several alterations made to include Harry, Hermione, and something about how Slytherin could never win the House Cup.

When Blaise's voice went a little too high for one part, triumphant cries filled the room followed by girlish squeals of delight. Draco let out a loud groan and slammed his fist against Blaise's shoulder, nearly knocking over the man who was beet red and had dropped his flag – one given to each man by Dean before beginning their songs.

Their lips briefly met before the two men looked to Dean and Seamus, waiting patiently for them to determine which piece of the costume should be removed first.

"Blaise," Dean said, "take off the head."

Seamus rolled his eyes and turned to Dean. "Aren't ye being a tad too nice?" He dramatically pointed at Draco, eyes flashing with glee. "Oy! You! Take off your shirt!"

Hermione had been wondering whether the Slytherin men had been wearing anything under the costumes, and her answer was quickly followed by more girlish giggles as Draco tugged off the torso, exposing the long, lean, muscular line of his chest. She hated to admit it, the sight of him, toned abdominals, taut and broad chest, wearing those lion pants, tails, and head made her face blush with something other than mirth and embarrassment.

She remembered how he _did_ roar when he came.

They began their song anew, losing only one other piece of clothing in the process – Blaise, his shirt, Draco, his paws – before the room as satisfied with their final rendition of the song. Many of the girls displayed some dismay that Blaise was not the wonderful singer that they thought he would have been, while a few others discussed Draco's decent, but not amazing, voice. Hermione, all the while, had her face buried into a pillow as she laughed, watching the two men do a rather embarrassing jig at the end of the song for emphasis.

The sound of someone clearing their throat had her panting for air and slowly lifting her head as she tried to get enough oxygen in her lungs. Slowly, her eyes trailed up the body of Draco – dressed in his earlier clothes – to reach his face. His mouth was set in a stern frown, eyes glowing with a myriad of emotions, and his cheeks mottled red with embarrassment. He had a tuft of lion 'fur' sticking out oddly in his hair.

Giggles bubbled out of her mouth again and she clapped a hand to it, trying to stem the flow of laughter as much as she could to save Draco further awkwardness. She heard him growl, saw his lips move as he uttered several curses as his hand lifted to run through his hair, successfully removing the 'fur.'

Just as he was about to yank her off of the couch and out of this damned room, Dean appeared out of nowhere, draping an arm loosely over Draco's shoulders while Seamus dragged Blaise over.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" cried Seamus, drawing the crowd's attention to him. "Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini have been successfully initiated into the Gryffindor Alliance! From this day forward, as we begin the New Year, they will be our friends, not enemies!"

"Hear, hear!"

"Happy New Year, mates!" Dean grinned, patting both men on the back. "You're now one of us."

"Why do I feel like I've doomed myself?" Blaise groaned out as the twosome weaved their way through the crowd.

"We've been turned into Gryffindorks," Draco mumbled, rubbing his face harder than was necessary.

"I told you not to call us that," Hermione chastised him, sending a glare his way. "We are not dorks."

Rolling his eyes, Draco leaned on the back of the couch, placing his face rather close to hers, and graced her with a sly smile. "Sorry, I forgot, you're the only Gryffindorkette, they are Gitffindors."

Hermione reached out and had his cheek in her hand before he could react, earning a loud cry from him and several chuckles from Blaise and Dennis, who were watching with avid attention. She pinched it hard enough for Draco to let out a curse of pain before letting go. "We're not gits."

Rubbing his cheek, he sent Hermione a pointed stare before crossing his arms and huffing loudly. She didn't hear his response but saw his mouth move slightly, letting her know that, while he did not entirely agree with her, he would agree for now.

"Can we go now?" Blaise sighed softly, rubbing the back of his neck as he noticed several women in the room staring at him with terrifying sexually ravenous looks.

Hermione nodded, wishing to avoid more embarrassing situations as much as possible. Moving out of her seat, she wished as Happy New Year to Dennis before leading the men out of the room, saying her New Year wishes to anyone who she passed, pausing only briefly to let Dean know that they were leaving. The man simply nodded, figuring that the poor Slytherins had had enough awkward situations to last the rest of their lives.

The silence of the hall was welcoming, as was the cool air that danced through th passages, easing their burning cheeks and slowly their rapid heartbeats. New Year's wishes were repeated when Blaise broke off to make his way to the Slytherin common room as the couple dragged themselves to the Heads' Tower, wanting nothing more than to fall on the nearest soft object and fall asleep.

The tower was blissfully quiet, the fire crackling merrily on the hearth, and, soon enough, exhaustion transformed into need. Shoes were loosely discarded, one of hers tossed lamely into the middle of the kitchen, his pants falling somewhere along the staircase as their lips met in another ferocious, needing kiss. Her shirt fell limply in the hall, followed swiftly by his as their feet dragged their bodies to the nearest bedroom. Her bra was flung into the darkness, one of his socks hanging off of the mirror over her dresser.

They collapsed onto the bed in a jumble of limbs, hands roaming to touch every little part of each other as they came together, rising up in the darkness, pulling through the comedy of the evening, the stress of the night, and every foul, grim part of life to become suffused by the effervescent glow of love and passion. Their skin glistened, their breath gasped out, and their heart thundered in unison as they moved, In the darkness, they forgot about everything but each other, felt nothing but the other's touch, and whispered nothing but soft cries of pleasure.

The wave of pleasure crashed over them, lifting them up as their cries mingled in the air, their mouths latching onto one another, as though anchoring themselves to the earth.

Panting after, exhausted, her hand limply fell from his back to fall on the sheet, his body rolling over to pull her on top of him, and his lips pressed gently against her forehead, arm hugging her body to keep her close.

Her breath was soothing against his skin, a reminder that, no matter how silly things got, no matter how bad things seemed, she would always be there with him, either laughing at him or strengthening him.

Her lips parted to let out a soft laugh, drawing him out of sleep just long enough to hear her say, "You look silly as a lion," before he drifted off, falling asleep with her in his arms.

* * *

**This was officially the silliest chapter I have ever written in my life. I've always tried to stay away from them (I tend to be very, very serious and have great difficulties in making anything silly or funny). But, there we go. **

**I love the image of Draco and Blaise dressed as lions. I could not, for the life of me, find a picture of either Draco or Blaise in lion costumes (I wrote Draco Lion in DA and just got Draco as a lion, not dressed up as one, and yielded the same results on google, for example). If anyone has awesome art skills and feels like doing it, go ahead and please send me the pic via PM or something 'cause I really want an image of Draco dressed as a lion. 3**

**So yeah, like I said earlier, the smut-bit was kind of added in to tone down the silliness that began promptly after, say, the third paragraph or so, and kind of a way to show that, even through the silliness of life, even though the night made absolutely no sense, they still feel for each other and love each other (even though Hermione laughed at Draco and stopped him from destroying Dennis's beautiful photographs). **

**I'm sorry for not updating in a while, like I mentioned earlier, I've been sick, tired, and doing a lot of school work (I actually just finished my garlic essay, and am now on other essays. It's crunch-time University-wise where everything is due in the next two weeks). I've also been working on a fantasy steampunk novel, which, if I get it published and it sells, will help pay for school fees. Haha. **

**I'll be sure to let you all know how it goes. **

**So yeah, here it is. My chapter. **

**Critical criticism is much appreciated, please. Any mistakes you see, feel free to let me know, but you're not obliged to go through the entire chapter and find them (unless you really feel like it, haha.) **

**P.S. It may take a while for the next chapter to be posted, due to school work and exams coming up, but I'll do my best. **

**Thanks for reading!  
**


	5. Welcome to the Grangers

**Hey, chocolaterox pointed out that my silliness is rather fluff-like. I know what you mean, I have always had difficulties incorporating non-fluffy silliness. But, I'm going to try my damndest to add silliness in this story that isn't just fluff. If it doesn't turn out all too well, then I apologize, but I'm going to do my best! Oh, and thank you very much for the critical criticism chocolaterox. For that I give you e-chocolate. Or, perhaps a chocolate covered Draco in a future chapter. (Haha, I can totally see that as a prank of sorts!!!!!!!) 3  
**

**This chapter will involve some silliness. I mean, come on: Draco in a Muggle home. What CAN'T go wrong?**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. The only thing I may get published is an essay on garlic in antiquity (which I am proud of), but other than that, I own nothing and, no, there are no references to Harry Potter in my essay. Sorry.  
**

**Chapter 5**

**Welcome to the Grangers**

The letter was sitting on the kitchen table the next morning, pale white envelope standing starkly against the dark mahogany wood. They found it odd, rather peculiar to see the letter there, with no sign of an owl anywhere in the room. They assumed that it had nibbled on the various fruits sitting neatly in a bowl nearby, and had promptly left through the window kept open for the sake of keeping the fire alive.

She immediately recognized her mother's neat and tidy writing, the way she curled the bottom of her g's made it more than recognizable as her mother's.

Draco rummaged through the fridge, knowing that it was well past breakfast and the Great Hall would be void of all foodstuffs. Yanking out the milk, he listened as she tore open the letter.

"Hm."

He tilted his head at the noise, turning to look to her as he poured himself a bowl of cereal. "What is it?"

She lowered the letter, folding it neatly before placing it on the table. "My parents are inviting us to supper tomorrow night."

Cereal clattered onto the counter as he stared at her, heedless of the capacity of the bowl and how it was now overflowing with the sugary breakfast food. His mouth twitched, jaw hanging open, jerking slightly to the side as he gawked at her.

"Wh…what did you just say?'

She shrugged, having expected his response, and moved over to tilt the box so that no more of the food would be pouring out. "My parents want us to come over for supper; they want to get to know you."

"How do they even know we're together?"

Her cheeks blushed with embarrassment as she focused a little too much on cleaning the mess. He slowly turned on the spot, watching as she fidgeted with the cereal, already hearing the answer in his mind before she even spoke it.

"I told them."

"Why the hell would you tell them? For all we know, they'll go blabbing to Old Weaslette and then everyone will know! You told me you wanted to wait before telling everyone because of Weasel and his stupidity!"

He was mad, that was certain. Annoyed at the fact that they had to keep it a secret, irritated that she went ahead and told her parents without letting him know, and irked that the only reason their relationship was being kept in the dark was because of her stupid friends.

"Draco," she said in a deceptively calm voice; she was just as irritated as him at the situation, "I told my parents because I trust them and cannot lie to them. They, least of all, deserved to hear the truth than the lies we've been spreading."

"But how do you know they won't…?"

"I told you," she said, turning around to give him a fierce look, "I trust them. They understand our situation, they know how Ron is and has been during Christmas break, and they promised me that they would tell no one unless I gave them permission."

"So you performed a vow?"

"We don't need to perform some magical spell in order to keep a secret," she sighed. "They're my parents, I'm their daughter, we have a mutual understanding, trust and love for each other that is unconditional and creates a strong bond than any vow."

Huffing loudly, he crossed his arms. "They've been staying with the Weasels, how can you be so sure that they aren't telling the whole lot right now?"

Hands on hips, she took one menacing step forward and if looks could kill, he would have been obliterated on the spot. "We _trust_ each other," she snapped. "Just how you trust me and I trust you, my parents and I trust each other. If they promised not to tell anyone, then I know that they won't. Not everyone has the same relationship with their parents like you did."

His face fell briefly, shock sliding over his features before the muscles relaxed with such speed that his mouth was left hanging ajar. Less than a second pass before the muscles tensed, jaw clamping shut, cheeks taut, and brow knitted furiously as his eyes reflected every possible negative emotion for a single human being to feel.

She felt the pain radiate off of his body, felt the anger burning his core, and regret thrummed through her in a quick beat, urging her to step forward and apologise until she was exhausted from it.

She reached out tentatively, hand trembling as tough fearful of what might happen if it made contact with his body. He drew away before they ever made contact, body jerking violently to the side to avoid her touch as his eyes glowed fiercely. Thunder clouds, dark and menacing, flickering from the brilliantly dangerous flashes of lightning that shot down to kill anyone in their path.

"Don't."

His voice was like the thunder to the lightning of his eyes, deep and rumbling, hoarse and laced with anger that could only ever be surpassed by the rage he felt when he thought that her love had been a sham.

"Draco…I'm sorry…"

"Sorry for what?" He snapped now, quick, like the short but violent echoes of thunder that swiftly followed the lightning. "Sorry because my parents didn't give a damn about keeping my secrets? Sorry that my dad thought more about his own life than mine? What are you so sorry about? Or are you regretting ever saying that?"

Her body tensed, ready to fight back with just much aggression as him, hands clenching at her sides as she prepared for a vicious rebuttal. But instead, the only thing that came out of her mouth was a loud sigh of annoyance, directed more towards herself than anything else in the world.

"I always say the worst things," she mumbled, rubbing her face.

"Not at all, you're the nicest fucking person in the world," he growled.

"Oh sod off!" she cried. "I'm sick and tired of you getting so bloody angry every time I say something stupid. I'm sorry for being tactless and horrible with social situations, I'm sorry your father was a bloody prat, and I am not sorry that the man got what he deserved! Are you happy now?"

"No! I'm not." He turned away from her, running his hands over his face as he heaved a breath. She was right; he always overreacted. But, could he really blame himself? It wasn't like he'd had the perfect life most had assumed he'd had; his father had either never been there or had been too busy setting himself up as the authoritative figure to give a damn about his son and wife. His mother had been growing listless in the final years, even more so since the death of his father. It was almost as though she had attached her life force to his, and he saw the blame in the woman's eyes whenever they looked at each other. Gone were the sweet gazes and gentle words, the kind touches had disappeared, the smell of her attempts to bake, the sound of her singsong voice echoing throughout the house.

She had been replaced with a shell, a woman who had lost her husband and, or so she believed, her son. He knew she spent her time thinking that she had done a horrendous job raising him, knew that she saw of him as a failure; what kind of son kills his father? He still loved her, still cared for her, but it hurt to see the accusatory looks every second her gaze met his.

His parents were not like Hermione's, who, when he had seen them that one time in second year, seemed so warm and inviting. She spoke of them with high regards, her eyes glowed whenever she spoke of them, there was love and devotion in her voice, and now she spoke of their trust.

There was never any trust between his parents and him, never any love, at least not in the last few years. Once he had turned fifteen, everything had changed. Once the menace of Voldemort stepped back into their lives, the little trust that they had had between each other had completely dissipated.

It was only natural for him to be upset with her; she compared her loving family to his cold one, had snapped at him the truth that he had wanted to avoid for years.

The only family he had were imprisoned murders and empty shells, and those who might have shown love had been killed by his own blood or by those his father supported.

Perhaps if Sirius Black had lived, he might have been given a chance of a loving family member once his mother deteriorated, maybe if Tonks came to accept him as her nephew, she might provide him with the loving embraces his mother now neglected to grace him with.

Maybe, perhaps, what if…all of these uncertain futures, all of these regrets…it hurt so much to think about, but he could not stop thinking about it.

The tears were sliding down his face before he could even register them, hell; he felt the warm arms around his before the scalding tears even made a dent in his mind. Her breath was gentle against his neck, her whispered words sweet against his flesh, and her touch warm and comforting as she pressed his body to hers.

He wanted to relax at her touch, wanted to melt while her arms were wrapped tightly around his body, pressing hers gently but firmly against his. His eyes were shut; he didn't even remember closing them, and her lips were pressed against the back of his ear.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, holding him tighter as his body trembled in her embrace. "I didn't know…I was tactless…" She didn't need him to tell her what was wrong, didn't need to hear the whole story of his life, all she knew was that something happened in his life that made her words feel worse than a knife to the heart.

She saw his tears, saw the pain in his face and body, swore that would smell it if it exuded a scent of any kind, and she wanted to do nothing more than to take it away.

'_This is love_,' she thought softly, '_wanting to take away all of his pain, no matter what.'_

He heaved a loud breath, leaning his head back to sigh loudly as he shut his eyes against the pain. She had no idea why he was upset, no clue as to why her words hurt him so, and yet, she was willing to console him without a question.

If that wasn't love, then he had no idea what it was.

But it didn't mean a part of him didn't want to throttle her.

"You are horrible tactless," he breathed out, turning in her embrace to look down at her.

Her amber eyes wavered, unable to look into his watery grey orbs, frightened at the way the tears clung to his lashes, terrified at the idea that something in his life had hurt him enough to make him cry. The storm clouds were gone, lighter in colour, very much reminiscent to the sky after a gentle shower.

The raindrops were his tears…

"I don't need to know why," she said softly, leaning up to kiss away his tears. "I don't want your life story; I just want to say I'm sorry for being a prat."

"I should hate you."

Her eyes lifted, panic lacing through them as her lashes fluttered wildly.

"I should…my education has taught me to hate you. I was born and raised to despise every part of you, and even now, I should hate you for what you said. I should throttle you, call you every foul name I know, and refuse to be near you ever again." He exhaled softly, tilting his head down to press his lips to her hair. "But, being the git I am, I can't. You hurt me…just the fact that you can hurt me is more than enough reason to stay away. But I can't bear the thought of staying away from you."

This time, her tears clung to her lashes, like diamonds glittering in the morning sun. "I'm sorry…I'll think before I speak."

He shook his head. "Don't apologise, Hermione. It's your nature to fight back, you don't care about the consequences, you say what's on your mind, and you fight back with every weapon you have. I hate and love you because of it."

She felt her lips curl into a smile at the compliment, her eyes glittering with unshed tears as she gazed up at him. "We are hopeless, aren't we?"

His hand was stroking her hair, an act that calmed him more than it did her, easing the pain away at the feel of her in such close proximity, the sensation of her heart beating against his in a timeless dance of love and compassion. Her warmth was soothing, her breath gentle against his cheeks, and her soul unbelievably beautiful, no matter what they said to each other.

"Why is that?"

Her lips twitched, the smile broadening as she pressed closer to him, enjoying the feel of his warmth. "Because, we just can't stop arguing…I think we love it too much. But…but I think we'll both learn what we can and can't say in an argument…especially me. Even though I think I should always be allowed to say what I want."

He couldn't help but grin down at her as the last bit of pain faded away, the memories dissipating into smoke as the present became once more the centre of his attention. "Remember, Hermione, there's always a line. I know you, I know that you will always say what you want, and I love that, but there's a line that should never be crossed. Or…"

"It will go from an argument to something hurtful," she finished with a nod. "I know…and again, I was being quite tactless."

He pressed his lips against her forehead, his smile soothing against her skin. "As long as you realize that."

They stood like that for some time, his lips against her forehead, her body pressed gently against his, unaware of the passing time, unheeding to the forgotten food that lay on the counter and floor, ignoring every outside force until a soft laugh bubbled out of her mouth.

Arching a brow, he glanced down at her, curious to know the reason behind her laughter.

"I'm sorry," she giggled, unable to stop the laughter from increasing. "But…this is so odd. I feel like we should be standing at either end of the room, screaming at each other, instead of…_this_." She gestured to their position, eyes glowing with mirth.

He grinned down at her, pressing several kisses to the dimples in her cheeks, hugging her laughing form closer to his. "I can think of something more productive we could be doing…"

"Do you still want to meet my parents, even after my tactless words?" she interrupted, pulling away from his embrace to look him in the eyes.

His shrug indicated nonchalance, but she knew that a small part of him still hurt over her words. They would work on that, she thought. By the end of this school year, she planned on knowing every little thing about him, and planned on telling him every little secret she had. For now, however, they would have to enjoy the moment.

"I suppose so." He tugged her closer, pressing several kisses to the corner of her mouth. "Now, where were we…?"

Rolling her eyes in disbelief, unable to understand just why he felt like shagging after she had just hurt his feelings – what a masochist – she pulled out of his arms, grabbing the letter on the counter.

"I'm going to write back right away," she said with a laugh.

His hands twitched in the air, as though he itched to grab her and kiss her. Damn, he loved it when she smiled like that, especially after they argued. It washed away the pain and guilt and made him realize that, no matter what was said and done, at the end of it all, she would be smiling at him and his heart would only love her more.

Right now, however, he just wanted to kiss and ravish her, and his little minx was waving some damn letter around.

"But…"

"Enjoy your cereal," she said, tapping with the parchment. "I'll confirm that we will come down to visit them tomorrow night for supper, and I'll notify Headmistress McGonagall."

He sighed heavily as she rushed up the stairs and listened as she rummaged through her belongings for parchment and quill to reply. The sigh extended as he realized just what he had done.

He was going to meet Hermione's parents…Muggle teeth doctors…he was _not_ looking forward to it.

* * *

He had formulated every possible argument and had voiced every single one, he had distracted her by pointing at paintings and suits of armour as he created new ways to prevent the inevitable from happening, but, at the all of it all, his efforts were in vain and only resulted with a very annoyed Hermione and a rather tardy arrival in Hogsmeade.

According to her, they would be Apparating into the backyard of her parents' home, which was located in a suburban part of London. He had himself prepared for the worst, always thinking that Muggles lived in small, cramped places, without lights and working only by candlelight.

That was a lie…he knew what Muggle buildings looked like and had heard of their infamous electricity. What it was and how it worked, was completely unknown to him; all he knew was that it made glass bulbs light up like candles, those weird screen-boxes to turn on and show the shrunken people inside, and the variations fridges and stoves to hum and sizzle.

"Won't it be cold?" he wondered aloud as they neared their Apparition point.

Hermione rolled her eyes for the thousandth time that night, resisting the urge to give the man a good, hard smack. "Honestly, I have no idea what I'm going to do with you," she sighed, pushing him along when he paused to wait for her answer. "We use air conditioners and heaters."

"What's an air conditioner?"

"You are the single-most annoying being in the existence of all mankind," she groaned, sliding on ice when he almost refused to budge. "Walk and I'll tell you."

When he took a few steps forward, she heaved one more sigh and followed him, making sure that she would be able to shove him forward in case he decided to stop again for an undetermined amount of time.

"So, what are they?"

She cursed; a low rumbling sound that delighted him; his sweet Hermione was turning into a real Slytherin-girl!

"An air conditioner," she began before he could ask again, "is an electronic device that, when attached to the vents throughout a house, shoots cool air into the house once it gets too hot."

"How does it know it's too hot?"

"There is a thermometer placed in the house, an electronic one, that records the temperature of the home. A pre-set base, or comfortable, temperature is programmed into the thermometer and the air or heat turns on according to whether the temperature is too high or too low."

"So," he began slowly, "this device is powered by that curious electricity you use, and it heats up or cools down a house according to a preset temperature?"

"Yes."

"Bloody brilliant!"

"Yes, I know, now walk!"

He marched on, a childish grin on his face as she grumbled and groaned behind him, pleased with his current learning experience. Throughout his childhood, he had been forced to stray away from the Muggle lifestyle; he had been taught that they were barbaric in their lack of magic and beneath them because of such. Now, since the beginning of his reform years ago and since meeting Hermione Granger, he was learning that Muggles were, most likely, above wizards. They made due with what they had and exploited and created things that would help them live comfortable lives without magic. They had this fascinating electricity, which he had no clue how it worked, that powered so many devices that kept them in touch in spite of long distances or provided heat and comfort. They had aeroplanes, trains, and cars that helped them travel long-distances in shorter periods of time, they had ways of creating clothes that were easy, they had these amazing, invisible libraries filled with information and text located within the depths of the strange and confusing Internet, and damn him, they had created an infinite array of weapons and fashions to kill.

He was quite pleased and excited to learn more about this fascinating group of individuals.

The Apparition was more difficult for him than usual; he had to hold onto Hermione and rely on her to relocate them; he had not clue where her home might be located. It was a little more painful than usual, expected to say the least, but it was not horrendous.

He, embarrassingly, stumbled when they landed on a patch of cool snow in the backyard of a quaint home. As he sat up, ignoring the cool feeling of the snow soaking through his pants, he looked around at the small yet comfortable backyard. The fence was lined with cedars, snow hanging in thick patches on the leaves. There was a deck, on top of which rested a table and a barbecue, the first of which was covered by a thick layer of snow, the latter of which rested near the backdoor, as clean as the path that trailed from the backdoor to the stairs of the deck.

Getting to his feet, he looked over the home, quite pleased with what he saw; he expected nothing less from the people who raised someone like Hermione. It was a modest two-story home, the colour of which he was unable to determine due to the fading light of 4 o'clock in the afternoon, but he assumed that it was brick with several sections paint an eggshell or white hue. The roof was tiled, and the windows were simple and white.

Hermione had already brushed off any snow on her legs and turned to him, offering him her hand. He gently grasped it in his own, squeezing it gently, more to ease his nerves and excitement than to comfort her, and she slowly led the way onto the deck.

"My parents are expecting us. We can leave our shoes at the backdoor, because we will be Apparating from the backyard when it is time to leave." She turned to smile at him as they arrived at the backdoor, which remained covered by a sheer curtain on the other side. "Don't be nervous."

"Easy for you to say," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair; he wanted to look presentable, at the very least. "They aren't going to hurt me, will they?"

How many times was she going to sigh tonight? It was only four and she had already lost count.

"No."

"What if they try to experiment on my body?"

"They are not mad scientists."

"What if they try to examine my teeth?"

He shouted the last words, as though it was the most horrifying thought to ever cross his mind.

She stared at him, trying her hardest to keep a straight face when all she wanted to do was burst into laughter. He looked downright serious, body tense, eyes wide with fear, and he shook like the last leaf in a windy autumn day.

"I'm sorry…I can't…" she cried, her words ending on a loud laugh as his words repeated over and over in her mind. It was just too silly, the idea that he was terrified at the thought of her parents examining his teeth.

The back door opened to such a sight, Hermione leaning on the wall, laughing so hard tears poured from her eyes, Draco standing to the side, looking uncomfortable and annoyed.

Needless to say, Jean was quite baffled at the scene and could only stand in the doorway, arms crossed, wondering just what had happened to cause such a ruckus.

The very second Draco's eyes met hers, his cheeks mottled red and he began fiddling with his hair and every piece of clothing he had on. This caused Hermione's laughter to increase and she was soon heaving for air, unable to laugh any longer.

Ignoring her daughter's shrill giggles, Jean smiled over to Draco, who was now adjusting his scarf, as though it would make him more presentable. "You must be Draco."

He nodded, as though afraid of blurting out the wrong thing and either making a fool of himself or insulting the family.

"I'm Hermione's mother, Jean Granger. It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, reaching out a hand in greeting.

Swallowing thickly, he reached out and clasped her hand in his, a little part of his upbringing trying to tell him that in touching a Muggle he was now tainted. The reformed and stronger side, however, reminded him that the only way he would ever be tainted was through having sex with Weasel, and it managed to calm some of his nerves.

"Draco Malfoy and the pleasure is all mine," he said, rather glad that his voice was void of annoyance – directed to the laughing bushy haired girl – and nervousness.

"Oh mum," Hermione giggled, wiping away her tears as she turned to face her mother. "You should have heard him. It was hilarious! Did you know he asked me... mmphf!"

Draco's hand was quickly wrapped over his lover's lips, sealing whatever words she had to say within her mouth. He grinned up at Jean before turning to Hermione. "Now, I don't think it's the time to say such things. Let us get in and relax before you start telling stories."

Hermione's curses were muffled by his hand, but her elbow could not be stopped from digging into his diaphragm and winding him. Jean watched the couple scuffle, one hand on her hip, and she couldn't help but let out a few chuckles.

"Come on, you two, supper is almost ready." Leaving the door open, she turned and went back into the kitchen.

"Please don't tell her what I said," Draco whispered to Hermione in a pleading voice as they banged their boots on the edge of the backdoor.

"Why?" she hissed, stepping onto the mat inside of the house, bending over to remove one boot.

"Because it's embarrassing," he whispered, stepping in after her to remove his boots, shutting the door behind him.

Rolling her eyes, she placed her boots on the side of the mat and adjusted her jeans, rolling up the hems just a bit to stop them from dragging on the floor. "Fine, but only if you promise to tell them what you said after supper."

He grumbled quietly behind her, placing his boots next to hers, before nodding. "Fine."

Now pleased that the inevitable was pushed further away, hoping that Hermione would somehow forget about it, he lifted his head to take a look at the home. He had to admit that he was rather surprised; Muggle homes were not unlike Wizarding homes. They were currently in a dining room, although much smaller in size than the one he had at one, it was homely, with pale peach walls, a classic dinnerware cabinet holding various pieces of china and silverware that looked to be more family heirlooms than purchased goods, and a lovely, average sized table taking up most of the room.

To their right was a doorway leading into what had to be the kitchen, a small window of sorts cut into the wall, very much resembling a serving window or counter. Inside, he could saw that the room was decorated with various little kitchen-related articles, a cow-spotted milk jug resting by the stove, two salt and pepper shakers shaped like little round people, and a colourful fruit bowl filled with various fruit.

What baffled him most was the stove; there was no fire, no evident sign of heat at all; the top looked like a simple slab of black that, as he neared, had rings drawn on it in all four corners, each one varying in size; two large, two small.

"How does that work?"

The words were out before he could stop them, and Hermione chuckled loudly while Jean jumped, having not heard either person step into the kitchen.

"Oh my," she breathed, leaning on the counter, one hand pressed to her chest. "Please, a little warning next time before you decide to sneak up on me."

"Sorry mum," Hermione answered.

Draco, however, was undeterred in his pursuit for knowledge and repeated the question on the workings of the stove. Jean blinked several times while Hermione switched between giggles and sighs.

"Sorry again, mum; he keeps asking all of these questions on how Muggle appliances work," Hermione said, moving out of the kitchen briefly to step into the main hallway, removing her coat and scarf to hang them onto the banister of the stairs by the main entrance.

"Oh, well," Jean said, unable to stop herself from smiling. "We use electricity." She gestured for the blond boy to step over beside her, shoving the panel on the back of the stove. "See this?"

"It looks like…what is it again…one of those clocks that Hermione told me about. A digit-all clock, right?"

"Digital," Hermione corrected from the doorway, watching with pleasure as her mother trying to explain the workings of an electric stove to the poor Wizard.

"Close enough," he said with a wave, pleased enough that he remembered what it was.

Jean giggled, and nodded, continuing in describing the workings of an electric stove to the poor man. Just as she was about finished, Hermione's father stepped into the kitchen, having finally vacated the living room couch to greet his daughter and her lover.

"Hermione, dear," he said with a smile, taking his daughter in a hug to plant a fatherly kiss on her cheek.

"Hi dad," she replied, stepping back to interrupt the conversation between Draco and Jean to introduce her father. "Draco, this is my father, Robert, dad, this is Draco Malfoy."

Draco looked distraught at the idea that his learning experience was being interrupted, but smiled at Hermione's father, reaching out to take his hand in a friendly greeting. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Granger."

"Please, call me Robert."

Nodding, Draco smiled at the man, quite pleased that someone with such a kind face was the father of the woman he loved.

"Well then," Jean sighed after a moment's silence, "is someone going to help me with supper, or are you all going to stand around the kitchen?"

"We'll help," Hermione offered before Draco could object, "just let Draco take his coat off."

Once she had dragged and nearly torn the poor man's jacket off, hanging it on top of hers, she tugged him back into the kitchen, washed up, and they began the process of helping Jean out.

"So," Draco said, quite pleased in having successfully mastered – at least he thought he had mastered it – the method of chopping carrots with a knife, "Mrs. Granger, can you show me how to work a microwave?"

"It's Jean dear," Hermione's mother replied from where she stood by the stove, adjusting the heat level for the potatoes. "And why would you want to know how to work a microwave?"

"Draco," Hermione sighed from across the kitchen table – which he noticed was smaller than the one in the dining room –, pausing in her preparations of beans to glare at him. "You are not allowed outside help; it's the rule."

"But that's not really fair," he replied, examining a carrot piece, debating as to whether or not it was too thick or thin. "You already have an advantage, being a Muggle and all."

"I know about as much about cinematography as you know about microwaves," she reminded her.

Jean watched the couple with curiosity, wondering just what they were talking about.

"Mum," Hermione said suddenly, "promise me you won't teach him how to use a microwave."

Blinking, Jean frowned at her daughter. "Why?"

"We made a promise," she replied. "He would learn about microwaves on his own, and I would learn about cinematography. But it can't be a real learning experience unless he does it on his own."

"But how are you supposed to learn about cinnamon-toe-graphy through experience?" Draco replied.

"It's pronounced ci-ne-ma-to-gra-phy," she corrected, "and I have to do research. The learning experience is different, but I'm still learning."

He muttered quietly, dumping his carrots into a bowl before examining an onion. "How do I do this?"

Jean chuckled as she watched Hermione lean over, explaining the process of peeling the outer skin from the onion, showing him how to go about it, and warning him that onions had a tendency to make people cry.

"Malfoys do not cry," Draco said proudly, with an air that made Jean think of a made who was from a rather privileged family and upbringing.

_Several seconds later…_

"Damn this onion!"

"You're crying."

"I am not!"

"I see those tears."

"I hate this," he whined, sniffling loudly, about half done dicing the onion.

"Do you want to see a trick I use?"

Turning to Jean, Draco nodded, his sniffling and teary eyes making her think of a sad young boy who had lost his favourite toy. She stifled several chuckles and made her way over, beginning the process of explaining how wetting the knife with cold water might help.

Robert stood at the doorway, watching the scene act out, and smiled in spite of himself. He had been nervous that Hermione had fallen head-over-heels for some prat of a man, that, with her past history of boyfriends, she had chosen yet another unsuitable jerk. He had to admit, he was quite pleased with Draco. While the man held himself with an air of sophistication, he was unafraid of asking questions, curious about every little thing he did not know, and showed nothing but care and love for Hermione. He saw the way they looked at each other, even in annoyance, and he knew that there was nothing but devotion and loyalty in each other's eyes.

Robert was, to say the least, more than pleased with his daughter's choice of man, and even more pleased that the two loved each other. He would, however, still have a planned man-to-man discussion with Draco to ensure that the man's intentions were nothing but good.

Until then…'_Welcome to the Grangers,'_ he thought with a smile, moving back to living room, listening as Hermione laughed when Draco asked another silly question.

This was going to be rather eventful.

* * *

**Okay.**

**Not as long as the last chapter, but I had to cut it short. I originally intended to dedicate just ONE chapter to Draco and Hermione's supper at the Grangers, but I found I just wrote way too much.**

**Haha.**

**So, here's the first half, it will be concluded in the second half, and we may just finally see Jean and Robert's reactions to Draco's dentist-related question.**

**Now, if some are wondering why Mr and Mrs. Granger are so…accepting and ask few questions, most of these questions will be answered in the next chapter but remember: their daughter is a witch. I'm certain that they've exhausted just about all questions they had on her and her friends, especially when they all first met in Diagon Alley in Hermione's second year. If they do have any questions, they will be reserved for supper, not for during the planning.**

**I know I made the introductions a bit abrupt, but, again I kind of had to cut this short and I was somewhat distracted in writing the second half (I take the train to school, and someone jumped in front of a Via Rail train – they go REALLY fast – at one of the stops along the way, so I was a bit distracted at the sight of a body on the tracks covered in a blanket – I could still see his feet). So…yeah, I may have not been 100% focused on it, but I did my best considering the circumstances.**

**So enjoy.**

**Remember critical criticism is always more than welcome and, with Christmas coming up, I may start putting more recipes.**

**Oh, and please, in the last chapter, I feel like I got more "Story Alerts" and "Favourites" than reviews. It was somewhat disappointing, because authors thrive on reviews. So, please review. I understand that school is coming to an end and most of you are probably very busy, but I was kind of sad to see only a few reviews.**

**I may have to put a 5 reviews minimum or no chapter rule up (yes, 5 reviews, due to the amount of reviews I received for the prequel, and I assume most of you are reading this one).**

**So please, REVIEW! My life depends on it. Not really…but my ego does, and if I start seeing a severe lack of reviews, I just may stop writing this altogether.**

**Sorry guys, but I write for two main reasons: 1. myself, for my pure enjoyment (and yours, but mostly mine, haha), and 2. to improve in my writing. If I don't receive reviews, if I don't know how my writing is doing, then I see no point. Remember, I plan on making a living out of this, and in order to do so, I need to hear criticism and opinions on my work. I need to know your thoughts on it, or, really there's no point to me posting this anymore. I know that 64 reviews may be a lot for only 5 chapters, but I feel like a lot of your are just favouriting or story alerting and not telling me why or what I can do to improve. I repeat: so please review!!!!!!!  
**

**Thank you.**


	6. Literary Smut and Teeth Doctors

**Quick review reply before I begin: to HarryPGinnyW4Eva, I am in complete agreement with what you said. However, I felt that, since I did get a nice amount of constructive criticism on my previous story, and a number of those readers have followed, I have been hoping for a bit of the same. I have been getting more than perhaps a writer with few stories would normally get, and I appreciate it, but, like I've said several times, I want to make a living out of writing, which means I will need some form of criticism. Even a "yes, I love it, please write more."**

**I do understand that it might seem selfish on my part to demand more reviews, and yes, receiving favourites please me to no end, but I always like to hear a little bit on why. If the reader does not want to review, I will not pressure them, but I have to say that, having received 19 reviews for the third chapter and only 6 for the fourth put a real damper on my self-confidence (and I lack it, trust me. I may act like I'm all "yayay, I'm great," but I think otherwise). So yeah, it is nice to see people favouriting them, but if you have a reason, a particular scene, or if you like my writing, I encourage the readers to review.**

**Trust me, writers love to receive reviews. **

**Well…I suppose this branched off to a bit more than just a reply to you, eh? Haha. But yes, I do agree with what you said.**

**So, to all readers out there, do not feel pressured to review, but we, the writers, do appreciate every single review. Do not be afraid to do it, but you are not obliged to.**

**So, I will not be instating the # of reviews before posting next chapter rule. I just couldn't do that to you guys or myself. Sorry if I was a bitch last chapter, guys! **

**Onto Chapter 6, Draco eating a Muggle dinner and discussing dentists. Fun.**

**Disclaimers: Songs of Innocence and Experience belong to William Blake, Narcissus in Chains belongs to Laurell K. Hamilton, and the Lord of the Rings Trilogy belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. Just so that nobody yells at me.  
**

**Chapter 6**

**Literary Smut and Teeth Doctors  
**

The kitchen was warm, a gentle heat that was neither overwhelming nor too faint. It was comforting, the warmth of the air, the emotions that swam around within it to make the atmosphere more calming than stressful. They sat at the table, peeling and cutting away at various vegetables, and his mind slowly began to wander.

He had to admit it; he had never felt such a soothing atmosphere before in his entire life. The kitchen at home had always been a cold place, void of life, love and the same warmth that wrapped him in a warm blanket in this kitchen. It had been a place of panic and anxiety, a place where only the lower-class would come to work and serve those of higher status.

It had never once replicated the soothing embrace of a mother's.

This one was different; even though he had just stepped into this home for the first time in his life, even though these people had every right to hate him, they accepted him into their home and made him feel more very much at home. Her mother stood by the stove, sliding open the oven door every so often to let the mouth-watering scent of the roast filter through the air as she checked the meat. The vegetables were boiling away on the stovetop now, their lingering scents mingling just enough with the meat and the homely scent to make him feel almost at peace.

He wanted to say that he hated the place, that he hated everything these people stood for, but he could not do anything but sit back and listen to their discussions as he tried his hardest to wrap the blanket of love tighter around his form.

Never before had he felt so accepted; even at school, the students had been wary. His friends had been few and far between, and even their families had been cautious when it came to him. He was the Malfoy boy, he was richer than most and had a powerful bloodline and no one wanted to upset him. The families avoided having him over at all costs, and yet, this family welcomed him into their home with open arms, unafraid of his bloodline or his power.

To them, it didn't matter where you came from, didn't matter who you were, so long as you had a good heart.

He wondered briefly if he did have a good heart; it was tainted, he knew that at least. He had done things that he was not proud of and never would be proud of, he had said things that caused unbearable pain, and he had been just as cruel as his father.

Perhaps, he thought, these people saw something in him that even he couldn't see. At least, he hoped for it. He hoped that there was indeed a pure part of him, that he was not too tainted, and that they were not simply imagining it for the sake of their daughter.

"Draco…"

Lifting a brow, he tucked his thoughts away for another time before looking up to meet Hermione's gaze.

"Hmm?"

"Did you not listen to a word I said?"

He shrugged, trying to look more nonchalant than embarrassed and gave her an award winning grin. "Was I supposed to be listening?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione heaved a loud sigh and looked over to her mother. "You see what I have to put up with? I was asking," she said, turning back to Draco, "if you wanted to help us set the table; supper is almost ready."

"Is that really what you wanted to know?"

"Yes."

"That life-threatening question I didn't hear that caused you to sigh and whine? Honestly, Hermione, and you wonder why I sometimes stop listening to you."

Hermione flicked a leftover string-bean in his direction; grin fading as he easily dodged it. "You prat."

"Besides," he began, acting as though she had not just tried to hit him with a little green vegetable, "I already helped with the preparations."

"Are you trying to get out of helping set the table?" Hermione sighed, getting to her feet to pour herself a glass of water.

"No, I'm just stating a fact," he said pointedly, nodding his head as though it was clearly going to end the argument and result in calming her down. He reached out, grabbing her hand as she walked by him, pulling her body close to his. "Besides," he whispered in her ear, "Malfoys do not set tables."

"Oh," she sighed, "you insufferable prat." She tugged on his grip, trying to pull her arm free and move away from his body. "Can't you go one minute without mentioning your damn bloodline?"

"But," he continued, keeping her close as he ignored her words, "I think I will make an exception. Only, I will require compensation."

Having not caught onto his suggestive tone, Hermione remained in the dark and looked over to him, at least as much as she could; she only got a glimpse of his hair and ear, she was that close. "What do you…?"

He grinned against her ear, sliding his tongue out to play with the lobe. "I think you know what I mean." This time, he breathed into the shell, sending shivers racing down her spine.

Her face instantly turned red, body tensing with a combination of embarrassment and need as she replayed the scenario in her mind. "Don't say stuff like that," she hissed back, glancing over to her mother, who was a little too focused on watching the vegetables cook. "My mum is in the kitchen, you know. My parents cannot know that we've…you know."

"No, I don't know," Draco said with a grin, earning a pinch in retaliation.

"Mum," Hermione said loudly, leaning back to look at her mother, "I'm going to show Draco the rest of the house, is that okay?"

Jean nodded with a smile. "Yes, just keep the doors open and don't be too long," she replied with a wink.

Groaning inwardly, Hermione grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him out of the kitchen, down a hall and up a flight of stairs, waving to her dad stationed in the living room on the way. Once upstairs, he was tugged down another hallway and couldn't help but grin when she yanked him into a bedroom.

"Well, well, I knew you couldn't wait," he began, staring around what had to be her bedroom, eyeing the bed in particular.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned on the light and faced him. "Honestly, could you get your mind out of the gutter for more than five seconds? I brought you here to talk."

"What is it that you want to talk about that we can't discuss in front of your mum?" he asked, making his way over to the simple wooden dresser, the top of which was decorated with various little knickknacks and, surprisingly a couple of candle-holders.

"What do you think?" she asked, sending a pointed look his way. "Be careful," she added when he picked up a glass candle-holder in the shape of a wolf, "it's fragile.'

"I figured that," he snorted, "it's made of glass."

Placing the item back in its place, he turned around and continued his examination of the room, ignoring her words yet again as he eyed the simple blue walls, the full-length mirror decorating her closet door, and the bookshelf was that literally overflowing with books of all shapes and sizes.

"Why am I not surprised?" he asked aloud, squatting down to look at various volumes. "Well, well, well, I _am_ surprised. Trashy romance novels, Hermione dear?" he asked, pulling out a book published by none other than Harlequin.

"Shove it, even I like to read something simple once in a while," she said, sitting down on the small yet comfortable double bed that sat in the corner of the room facing the bookshelf.

"Seems you like to read these a lot," he replied, finding several other books with titles that all seemed to reference heat, men, manly professions, and perfection. "Honestly, _Wet Heat?_ That's almost pornography!"

"It just about was," she mumbled, keeping her eyes on her knees as he turned to stare at her.

"I love this," he grinned, "I'm learning all of these little embarrassing secrets you have. Who would have guessed that Hermione Granger liked to read smutty books? I'm borrowing this." He slid the book off of the shelf and, with a way of his wand, shrunk it and pocketed it.

"No!" she cried, whipping out her wand. "Accio…"

"Oh, come on," he interrupted, sending her a sly grin. "Isn't this something couples do? Don't they share things?"

"Yes, but…"

"We are supposed to share hobbies, so, if you enjoy reading smut, then I will see if I enjoy it."

"I do not approve of this," she snapped.

"Oh, but I do," he replied, charming his pocket with a quick wave. "There, now you will not be able to Summon any item from my pocket."

"Damn you, Ferret boy."

"Oh, well that is a name you haven't used in a while," he said with a laugh. "Upset are we?"

"I'm going to make you pay."

He continued to grin, looking back over her shelves. "Consider this my compensation."

Groaning, she fell back on the bed, covering her face with a pillow as he continued to peruse her books, letting out sounds of glee whenever he found something particularly interesting or embarrassing.

"Anita Blake? What hell is this? Some kind of vampire series?" he asked aloud, picking up a copy of _Narcissus in Chains_. Flipping through the pages, he suddenly let out a hoot of triumph. "Jackpot! This is bloody brilliant! A massive orgy! I never knew you liked _this_ stuff, you filthy vixen."

While the nickname would normally arouse certain feelings in her lower body, she only groaned louder. "Please…put it back…"

"Oh hell no, I'm reading the whole scene now."

"Accio _Narcissus in Chains_," she mumbled, quite content to feel the spine of the book pressed against the palm of her hand and his sound of dismay.

"Cheater."

"Prat."

"Reader of smut."

"Sneaky ferret."

"You like written porn!" he cried out, causing her to send her pillow flying in his direction.

"Sod off."

Tossing the pillow back at her, he stood up to look over the upper shelves, growing more and more disappointed as the books shifted from smut to Milton, romance trash to satires by Pope and poetry by Blake. Then, on the topmost shelf, were several books from school.

"You still kept those bloody Gilderoy Lockhart books?"

"Even if he did take other people's credit, they were still true stories and very interesting to read," she said, sitting up. "I need to talk to you about something."

"What is it?" he asked, lowering himself to examine the far more interesting shelves laden with Muggle literature. Pulling out a copy of Blake's Songs of Experience, he began to flip through the pages.

"Well…it's about my parents. They're a bit....well…they think I'm a…"

"Virgin."

"Yes."

"And what's the problem with that? You just have to explain to them that you aren't anymore," he said, reading through The Chimney Sweeper. "Damn, religion is a bitch."

"I, well, yes, Blake pointed that out in his Songs of Experience, but that is not what I want to discuss. You see…I don't want my parents to find out."

"Why is that?" he asked, flipping through to find another poem.

"Because…well…they think I'm still a virgin…and they have this idea in their heads that I will remain so until I get married to the right bloke."

"And?"

She arched a brow, sitting on the edge of her bed, hugging the pillow to her body, more for comfort than to be comforted. "What do you mean? That's it."

"There's an 'and' in there," he replied, lifting his head from the book to turn and look at her. When she gave him a confused look, he continued. "And your father will probably try to kill me if he finds out I've defiled his beautiful little flower."

"Oh," she said, face blushing red. "I…I never thought of that…I suppose it's true."

Draco leaned back and flashed her a grin. "Of course you wouldn't, you still are quite the virgin in mind."

"Bugger off."

Moving back to the book, he replaced it back on the shelf and restarted his perusal of her texts. "So, you don't want mummy and daddy to know that, as the Americans would say, we've 'done the deed,' correct?"

"Well yes, in a nutshell; I would prefer to avoid the embarrassment if it's possible," she said, stretching out her legs in front of her. "To be honest, I think it would be the best for both of us."

"Because if daddy tries to kill me, I might have to retaliate," he said more than questioned, sliding another book off of the shelf. "What is this? _Lord of the Rings_?" He grew silent as he began reading the back of the novel.

"It's a very good trilogy," she replied with a smile. "So, do you promise not to tell my parents anything about our…personal relationship?"

"I suppose I have no choice," he sighed, opening the first few pages of the thick novel.

Her eyes narrowed and she sent a glare in his direction. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I am pretty positive that you would try to harm my body in some way or form."

"You prat," she snapped, whipping the pillow at the back of his head.

He, fortunately, did not see it and jerked forward, letting out a cry of surprise and pain as the pillow slammed against his head. She let out a hoot of triumph as he cursed loudly, dropping the book on his foot, which only added insult to injury. Spinning around on the spot, he sent her a furious glare and strode towards the bed, dark intent making his eyes to blacken to the hue of storm clouds.

Her eyes widened with surprise as he fell upon her, pushing her down hard against the soft bed, and she let out a yelp of shock when his breath mingled with hers, face lowering so that his forehead pressed against hers.

"Draco…" she began and was promptly cut off when his fingers ran up her sides.

"That hurt," he growled softly, eyes dark with the promise of retribution. "You didn't have to do it."

"You were being a prat," she replied firmly, trying to not let his wandering hands get the better of her, fighting to keep some semblance of control.

"I'm going to have to make you pay," he answered, sliding his hands back down to run along the sides of her stomach, stopping along the same horizontal line as her navel.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, grateful that her voice was void of worry.

He flashed a rather maniacal grin, before answering with, "This," and his fingers began worry in a fury, tickling and running along her sides as she squealed with delight.

"No! Stop!" she cried through her laughter, wriggling to get out of his grip as his fingers danced along her sides and stomach, tickling her in every spot he knew would cause her to nearly piss her pants. She squirmed and squealed, writhing to try to escape his touch as his fingers danced furiously along her body, earning coughing laughter from her.

He continued to smirk at her, holding her squirming body in place with his while one of his hands trailed down her leg to tickle behind her knee, causing her to let out a loud shriek of laughter when he ran his finger along the ticklish spot.

"Stop! Stop!" she nearly sobbed, face turning red, breathing heaving as she fought to get in enough air between each squealing laugh.

"Why should I?" he asked in a strangely calm voice, almost eerily calm considering the situation.

"Be…because…this is torture!" she squealed, trying her hardest to claw her way across the bed, to find a way to fall on the ground and run away as fast as her legs could carry her.

"Good," he replied, moving one hand to tickle her underarm. "You deserve it; you weren't very nice, Hermione."

"You were being a prat," she sobbed between laughs.

"You still didn't have to hit me," he replied, moving his hand back down to her side, pinching and tickling, enjoying the feeling of her muscles contracting under his fingertips through the thin cotton of her v-neck sweater. "This is your punishment."

"I'm…I'm sor…" she ended her words on another high-pitch laugh as he continued to tickle her with a fervour unmatched by anything she had ever experienced before.

"You're what?"

"Sorry!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you," he replied, moving to lock her kicking legs in place with his own, making sure that the position would not enable her to kick him right where it would hurt.

"I'm sorry! Stop…I'm going to pee my bloody pants!"

"Alright." He suddenly moved his hands away, remaining pressed on top of her, watching as she heaved for breath.

She shut her eyes, each breath gasping and shuddering as she fought to refill her body with much needed oxygen. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs, skin flushed from the tickling, and her pulse raced through against her throat. Slowly, when she had managed to gain enough breath to speak, she slowly opened her eyes, meeting Draco's smouldering grey gaze inches away from hers.

"You're such a prat," she murmured, unable to speak above a whisper; her throat hurt that much from laughing.

"I know," he grinned, lowering his mouth down so that their breath mingled once more.

Her body tensed in anticipation, her eyes darkening to the colour of aged whiskey as she prepared for the feeling of his lips pressed against hers.

She could almost feel them…

"What was going on in here?"

Draco's head snapped up, face mottling red as Robert stood in the doorway, a mixed look of confusion and annoyance on his face. Draco immediately moved away from Hermione, sliding off of the edge of the bed to land on his bum. Hermione, all the while, rubbed her face, almost as though it would remove the redness and wash away the embarrassment.

Robert's gaze shifted from the bed, the blankets on which were rather mussed up, to the pillow on the ground beside the forgotten book. Arching a brow, he looked back over to his daughter for an answer.

"'Mione?"

"It was my fault."

His eyes instantly shifted over to Draco, who had managed to brush himself off and stand with more dignity than he thought he had at the moment. Running a hand through his hair, he took in a deep breath and continued in order to answer the man's questioning gaze.

"You see…I made a joke about some of Hermione's books, and she thought it would be funny to throw a pillow at me," he grinned, almost as though he thought it would alleviate the tension in the air. "So, I decided to tickle her as punishment."

Robert stared at the younger man, eyeing him, almost as though he were trying to examine the man's mind and see whether or not the blond was lying.

"'Mione, is this true?" He knew that his daughter would never lie to him.

"Yes, dad," Hermione replied, sitting up after having finally removed the redness from her cheeks and had regained her breath. "You see, he knows that I'm rather ticklish, and I suppose it wasn't very nice of me to throw the pillow at him…"

Nodding slowly, the father looked over the couple once more, uncertainty in his eyes, before he heaved a sigh. "You're always been too silly for your own good," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. Draco sent a look of disbelief to Hermione, who sent one of her own in return. "Well, supper is ready, so you two better hurry down," he added before turning to leave the room.

Once his footsteps fell out of earshot, Hermione let out a loud sigh of relief. "I'm lucky that dad's so nice," she said, getting to her feet, making her bed.

"He looked like he wanted to kill me," Draco muttered, moving to pick up the book and pillow. "And what the hell did he mean you were too silly? Since when have you ever been silly?"

Frowning at her boyfriend, she finished the final touches on the bed, accepting the pillow from him. "I'll have you know that I can be silly."

"Yes," he said, shrinking the book and pocketing it, following her out of the room, "but, it is so difficult to imagine you being silly."

She sent him a glare, silently threatening him to continue. "Honestly, we're lucky that my dad believed us."

"But it was the truth," Draco pointed out, knowing that it would be futile to continue the discussion on her silliness, or lack thereof.

"Yes…but, he could have ignored us and have kicked you out," she replied, turning to face him as they reached the top of the stairs. "He was probably thinking we were about to…do it…when he came in."

Draco rolled his eyes in response. "Hermione, you have got to get your mind out of the gutter; stop thinking about me violating you for more than five seconds."

"You're an arrogant git," she muttered, marching down the stairs ahead of him.

"But you love me," he replied with a grin.

"Sod off."

"The world's greatest love declaration if I have ever heard one," he said, placing a hand to his heart for added effect.

"Shove it."

"And more words of love! How wonderful!"

"If you do not stop, I will be forced to push you down the stairs," she snapped, turning to glare at him.

"Oh, but that would be in vain, for it appears that were are at the bottom of the stairs. Hermione, my dear, where has all of that intellect gone; it appears that you believe I will be harmed if you push me down one step."

"Don't make me try."

He landed beside her, hopping over the last step, and draped an arm over her shoulder. "You're so cute when you get violent," he said with a grin, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She rolled her eyes; wanting to do nothing more than dig her elbow into his ribs in retaliation. "Don't make me hurt you," she threatened, turning to ensure that the front door was locked before leading through the living room – which was quite nicely furnished, if Draco had any say in it – before entering the dinning room through an arched entrance.

He followed, assuming that obedience might earn him more points than arguing with her, particularly since he wanted to make a good impression on her parents. He knew that Jean was growing fond of him, but he also knew that Robert probably wanted his head on a stake at the moment.

The mouth-watering scent of roast beef filtered through the air, mingling with buttered vegetables and mashed potatoes, making his stomach churn before he even stepped in and saw the sight of the table laden with the food. Jean and Robert were already seated at either end, waiting patiently for the couple.

"Mum, this smells delicious," Hermione gushed, taking the seat positioned in front of the cabinet, leaving Draco the seat across the table from her.

"Yes, Jean, it looks amazing," Draco added, knowing that compliments would please Jean and it didn't hurt seeing as it was the truth.

"Thank you," Jean said with a smile, cheeks growing pink with glee. "I thought that it would be nice to serve ourselves, that's why the table's set up in a way."

Draco hadn't asked a thing, neither had Hermione, but he quickly assumed that this was not the normal fashion in which they ate. Draco, too, typically ate in a different fashion, with House Elves bringing trays laden with the food and taking away the plates once they were done.

This would prove to be a rather educational experience.

Supper began with no issues, bowls and plates were passed around, white plates soon groaning under the weight of the food, glasses filled with water or wine, and discussion was light for the most part, comments on the food here or there, a few questions about school, but nothing personal or really entertaining.

They were about halfway through supper when the phone rang, piquing Draco's curiosity as Jean rushed to answer it. After watching the woman run to the kitchen, he turned to look at Hermione.

"What was that?" he asked.

"The telephone," Hermione replied matter-of-factly, placing a forkful of beans into her mouth.

"What is a…tell-a-foam?" he asked, curiosity slowly taking over his mind.

Swallowing, she sent him a look that told him he would pay for his constant questioning. "It's tel-le-phone," she corrected with a quiet sigh, "and it's the Muggle way of communication. There are lines set up all throughout the world, wireless towers that connect them, and we are able to communicate through these lines and towers. Sort of like the internet, but only for speech."

"Wizards don't have telephones?"

Draco looked over to Robert, noticing that the same curiosity he felt was currently displayed on the man's face. The blond slowly shook his head in answer, seeing this opportunity as a way of gaining better favour of the man who had nearly caught the blond snogging the hell out of his daughter. "No, we don't need them; we use the Floo Network or the O.P.D.S., Owl Postal Delivery Service."

"What's a Floo Network?"

Draco sent a look to Hermione, silently asking her why she had never described Floo transportation to her parents, before turning to the man. "We use this powder called Floo powder. When we throw it into a fireplace, it opens a gateway to all other fireplaces that are open publicly. Using this, we step into the fire, name the place we want to go to and we're sent there."

"Or," Hermione added, "we can just put our heads in and they will appear in the location we want them to as a reflection of image in the other fireplace. That way, we can talk to people who are thousands of miles away, just like the telly."

"Wow, that's fascinating!"

All heads turned to see Jean standing in the doorway of the dining room, looking more pleased than a child who had just gotten his favourite candy and toy in the same five-minute span.

"Well it is, isn't it?" she asked when Robert sent her a look that reminded Draco of Hermione. "It's so…magical."

Hermione nearly groaned aloud at her mother's corny use of words and quickly stuffed potatoes before she made any sound or said any words that would speak her thoughts. Robert, too, looked like he was about to say something in response, while Draco covered his laughter through several coughs, waving away Jean's assistance by choking out that he had swallowed the wrong way. Hermione eyed him from the across the table, knowing fully well that he had had nothing in his mouth before the coughing and sent him a kick under the table.

This caused him to jerk in response, and he coughed louder as he sent a kick her way, picking up his water to clear his throat.

Hermione sent him one more look before focusing a little too much on cutting up her meat.

With the curious questions answered satisfactorily, the dinner resumed its usual pace, silent yet comfortable, not tense as Draco had feared it would be. Then again, he should have expected her parents to very accepting if they were anything like their daughter. Hermione was one of the most accepting individuals he had ever met; her mind was not closed off but open, she did not prejudice against anyone, Slytherins and Purebloods included. He knew that she had her own basic beliefs or biases of rich Purebloods, but she was not about to push them away just because of that.

She, like her parents it seemed, worked to get to know someone before making any judgment on them.

For this, he was glad; he was nothing like the despicable, sad excuse for a father he had had.

Once the plates were cleaned and their stomachs full, Draco stretched in his seat, saying his praise for the delicious food. It was true; never before had he eaten roast beef that just melted on his tongue in a delicious mixture of flavours, he had never eaten softer or creamier potatoes, and the vegetables were just the right tenderness, mingling with the butter to create a myriad of tastes on his tongue. He had no choice but to comment Jean on her outstanding work in the kitchen and prayed that it had been passed down to her daughter.

After Jean gushed loudly for quite a bit, Robert cleared his throat and stood up.

"Draco, would you mind helping me clear the table?"

It was a simple question, easy to answer, and held so many implications and hidden intentions that Draco knew that by refusing he would insulting the family, but in accepting, he would be forced to endure the What-Are-Your-Intentions-Concerning-My-Baby-Girl speech.

Damn it all to hell.

Hermione sent him a sympathetic look as he lifted her plate, reaching out to gently rub his hand in a comforting way, knowing fully well that he was not looking forward to her father's speech and questioning. Jean, all the while, pretended that she was absolutely clueless to the situation and quickly engaged Hermione in a conversation about school.

Once in the kitchen, Draco began placing the dishes in the sink, not sure how to go about washing them. He knew that it required soap and something to wipe them with…right?

But…where was the soap? He could not find a single bar of soap and was left confused as to how he was to go about washing them. A part of him was relieved; maybe they ran out of soap and he wouldn't have to spend the rest of the visit trying to figure out how to go about washing dishes.

He knew how to turn on the tap and that was it.

"Just rinse them off and load them into the dishwasher," Robert said, rummaging through the cupboard to tug out several large plastic containers.

"Dish…washer?" Draco asked slowly, looking around for some kind of item that might wash the dishes.

"Right there," the man said, pointing to some sort of metallic-coloured door near the end of the counter.

Curious, Draco examined the buttons on the front, confused at the different symbols that meant absolutely nothing to him. Seeing something that looked like some sort of handle, he slipped his hand in and pressed, and the door popped out.

"What the?"

He lowered the door so that it hung horizontally above the ground, and gaped at the two racks stacked above each other, already partially filled with plates, cups, and various other eating utensils and items.

"What is this contraption?"

"It's called a dishwasher," Robert explained, moving over to tug out one of the racks. "You put the dishwasher safe dishes in there and once it is full, you put soap in the compartment, press the right buttons, and it washes the dishes."

"How?"

Robert let out a chuckle. "You magic folk really don't have these things?"

"Well…no," Draco explained, rinsing off the plates before placing them with the others already in the machine. "We use magic to wash our dishes."

The man moved back to the counter and began place the leftover roast beef into two separate containers, one larger than the other. "This, I suppose, is our kind of magic. You see," he began to explain the mechanics behind a dishwasher, teaching Draco more about a single item than the blond had ever learnt about one subject in his entire life.

"That's fascinating," he said, tentatively pushing the rack back in to pull out the top one, examining the machine with amazement as he tried to determine just how the top rack hung in the air.

"Yes, well, we can't use magic, so we have to find our own way of doing things," the man explained, moving to spoon the potatoes into two different containers.

"That's what Hermione told me."

Nodding, the older man continued to empty out the larger containers, passing them to Draco, instructing him on how to wash them, where to find the soap, and et cetera.

"Speaking of Hermione…"

Here it came.

"I had to be clichéd, but I have to ask you about your intentions."

Damn all fathers to hell.

Why did they all happen to either be neglectful of their children or overprotective?

Pausing as he washed the pot, semi-glad to find an excuse to stop this disgusting task – who in their right mind would actually _want_ to shove their hands into leftover food in pots and scrape it off? – he turned to look at Robert.

"I'm assuming that you would like for me to honest," Draco began calmly, "so I will be honest. A few years ago, Hermione and I used to hate each other more than anything else. I was a horrible prat to her and she was rude in return, although she had her reasons. I was not the nicest man. But, before the war, some…things…happened that cause me to reflect on my past behaviour. You could say that I am now reformed," he added.

"Even before we were assigned positions as Head Boy and Girl, I believe I started developing some form of interest in her, and it has only recently become what I believe is to be love. Your daughter is beautiful, intelligent, wonderfully witty, sarcastic, and can be the most annoying person in the entire world, but, in spite of everything that has happened between us, I love her. I do not plan on leaving her for some other woman, I do not plan on breaking her heart, and I vow to hurt everything single damn … jerk…that would ever dare try to hurt her." He looked up at Robert, smiling at the man. "Does that satisfy you?"

The man looked serious for a moment, almost as though he was ready to ignore Draco's words or dismiss them as unwanted or unnecessary and Draco was about to heave a sigh and give up, when the man's face broke into a smile.

"More than satisfactory," he replied. "Thank you for your honesty, Draco."

Draco nodded, sending another smile in return before shifting his attention back to the task of cleaning the dishes.

"Just one more question."

Draco arched a brow in question and sent the man a look in response. "Yes?"

"Do you use protection?"

Draco let out a loud cough, dropping a plate and breaking it in the process, still coughing loudly as disbelief flooded his mind. The man had _not_ just asked him that!

"What?" Robert asked, moving over to help the blond pick up the broken plate. "You don't expect me to think that my twenty-year-old daughter isn't sexually active, do you?"

Draco had no clue how to react to this; he had never met a single person, Wizard and Muggle alike, who had been so open about such a subject. Certainly, there had been boys his age who enjoyed discussing sex daily, but for the parent of someone to ask such a question…it was unthinkable!

What the hell was he supposed to say in reaction?

"Mr. Gran…uh, Robert…do you really think this is an appropriate question?" Draco managed to say, watching as the man tossed the broken pieces into the garbage.

The adult turned and smiled at the younger man. "Yes, I do. I want to make sure that you don't get my little girl pregnant and then leave. She's got an education to finish, you know that? And I really don't think she's ready to be a mother anytime soon, so I just want to make sure that…"

"I get it,' Draco said, wiping his hand on his pants before rubbing his face. He knew that he had no way out unless someone magically appeared from the dining room to interrupt their discussion. "Well…honesty is key…_if_ I were to…become active with your daughter in that way," he was treading on very, very, _very_ thin ground right now, "I would most certainly use protection. However, we find no need because we are currently not engaged in such activities; we only started … dating…" was that the proper Muggle word? "…a few weeks ago, and I believe it is in both of our interests to get to know each other more before we, uh, have…sex."

Robert looked over the blond for a moment and Draco couldn't help but feel like he was being scrutinized from every angle. It was rather uncomfortable for someone to be staring at him in such a way and he felt the urge to squirm and get away as fast as possible.

"Okay."

Okay? Is that all the man was going to say? '_That asshole just put me on the fucking spot and all he's going to say is 'okay'? What the fucking fuck?'_ Draco mentally shouted, wanting to scream at the stupidity of the situation.

"You have my consent to date my daughter."

He had to get the man's consent? He thought that only Wizards did things the old fashioned way.

This was getting to be a very confusing night.

"Dad."

'_Oh great, now the damn chit decides to show up!'_ Draco wanted throw his hands into the air in frustration and turned all of his attention back to scraping the damn pot clean.

"Yes?"

"I hate to be a bother but could we serve pudding soon? Draco and I have to be back at school soon," Hermione said, trying not to laugh at the sight of Draco washing the dishes. It certainly was a sight to see; the sleeves of his silk shirt rolled up to his elbows, his hands soapy and dirty, and his face etched with lines of frustration.

With a nod, the cleaning process ceased and they began serving the tarts that Jean had made earlier that day, placing small dollops of whip cream on top. Draco sat back in the dining room, enjoying the delightful taste of strawberries on his tongue as he listened to Hermione talk to her parents about her plans for some activity or another at Hogwarts.

The second he was done, he slowly licked his teeth, ensuring that no seeds were stuck in them, and quickly rinsed his mouth with water.

"You've been taking good care of your teeth, dear?"

That was right…her parents were dentists weren't they? He listened as Hermione answered her father's question, mind wandering back to the question of whether or not they might try to steal his teeth because they thought that his teeth would hold magical properties.

"You're not going to steal my teeth, are you?" The question was out before he could even stop it and silence filled the room as all eyes turned on him.

Hermione burst into a loud fit of laughter while Jean and Robert just blinked at him. Draco felt his face heat up in embarrassment and he would have given anything to be killed at that very moment.

"Dear, no," Jean suddenly said with a faint smile, "where in the world did you get such an idea?"

"I…well…Hermione said you were teeth doctors…and I thought that, because I'm, um, different…you might want to take my teeth and examine them," he mumbled, feeling more embarrassed than he had ever felt in his entire life.

Robert's laughter was turned into several coughs while Hermione giggled loudly into her napkin. Jean's smile broadened and she shook her head in response.

"No, no, we don't _take_ teeth unless they require to be removed. We just examine them where they are, clean them, and fix them," she explained. "And all teeth have the same composition, just some look different than others because they belong to a completely different species. You're still a human, so you have human teeth."

"So…you won't try to take my teeth?"

"Not unless they're rotting away in your mouth and require immediate removal, no." He didn't know whether he should be insulted or grateful for Jean's sweet, motherly tone. She spoke to him like he was a five-year-old, yet the kindness in her voice made him feel a little less embarrassed.

"Oh," was all he could say, and he squirmed in his seat for a bit before taking a swig of water. "I'll help clean up," he hurriedly said, collecting the plates and rushing out of the room as fast as possible.

Hermione couldn't stop laughing.

A good half hour later, they were dressed to leave and standing at the back door, Draco watching as Hermione hugged her parents goodbye. He felt a twinge of jealousy at the way her parents held her, the way they professed their unconditional love for her and told her that they would be there for her at her graduation.

Suddenly, a hand was thrust into his vision and he stared up at Robert's grinning face.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Draco," he said as the blond took his hand. "You'll be welcome here anytime."

Draco couldn't help but return the grin, shaking the man's hand. "Thank you, and the pleasure was all mine."

Once their hands were free, he was suddenly pulled into a tight embrace. The warmth of Jean's arms around his body, the motherly touch that made his heart ache, nearly made every emotion in his body swim to flow down his cheeks. It felt so nice…to be truly held by a mother…when he had gone so long without his own mother's embrace.

"Even though you've only been dating our Hermione for a few weeks," Jean said as she pulled away, "I want you to let you know that you're part of the family now. Our home is your home." She then thrust several containers of leftovers into his hands and wished them a safe trip back.

He smiled the whole way back to school.

Even if Hermione laughed at him the second they were back at Hogsmeade, he knew that nothing she said or did could remove the bliss he felt from being accepted into her family.

Life was good.

* * *

**Sorry it took a while to post. I had a lot of school work to deal with; it's the last week and a half into semester and I've been busy writing essays and studying for exams. I finally got some reprieve last night and was able to write a good amount of this and finish it on the train today.**

**And again, I'm sorry if I was a bitch last chapter. I guess I was going through a moment of self-doubt and lack of confidence before posting it and I guess I kind lost my...remaining self-confidence when I saw how few reviews I had received. So, I'm sorry if you felt obliged to post a review. Please, post only if you want to. Sorry for being a bitch.**

**So, quick question: Who wants me to start posting recipes again? I will if enough of you beg, haha.**

**So yeah, the next chapter shouldn't be AS long as this one, and we're going to start moving a little faster in the story-timeline now that I've gotten the before-starting-school-again activities done.**

**Oh, and Weary_Soulsearcher was kind enough to do a pretty drawing of Draco dressed as a lion for me. ^.^ It made me happy so I feel I must share it with the rest of you!**

(dot)com/art/Gryffindork-Allies-145491742

**Enjoy! I think it's really cute and thank you so much Weary_Soulsearcher for sending it to me! You get loads of e-cookies of love. 3**

**Take care everyone!  
**


	7. Possession

**Sorry I've taken so long to write this chapter up. If any of you have noticed or gone by my profile page (which I update regularly to let readers know why I'm taking so long on writing a chapter), you would have seen that I have been extremely busy: exams at the beginning, mid-December, Christmas shopping in less than a week, and then personal time with my family and fiance, with whom I have not been able to spend much time. Then there was a lot of work, and essentially, all of my free time was occupied with one thing or another. To boot, I kind of just gave my laptop a bit of break; I just needed some time to myself, you know. **

**Just to let you all know, I have temporarily quit WoW (my guild's kinda gone uber lame, my bf (who was an officer) quit too, and I just don't have time, so it will no longer be taking up the extra time I could use to write). However, I have restarted playing Fable II (and am trying to find my copy of Fable:TLC), so it has taken up a bit of time, but usually I play only after my nightly workouts. I have also started school again (we started Jan 5th), so it will be taking some time, but I feel I may have more time this semester to keep writing.**

**Thank you for your patience.**

**Warning: hot, sexy smut ahead. Wasn't originally planning on it, but fuck it, it seems like a great idea. 3 Turn away if you don't like, I will not be warning when it starts of ends. All you need to know is that it takes place in the chapter. Don't read if you don't like, and don't bitch. You have been warned. **

**Quick P.S. if anyone is interested in knowing, the date is Saturday, January 5****th****, 2009 in this fic. Just in case anyone is curious.**

**P.P.S. I will start giving out recipes as of the next chapter, but they will not just be dessert oriented (my father found this recipe for this delicious chicken and cheese tortellini stew the other day), and I will also try to post some vegetarian ones who those to do not eat meat. (I have this recipe for Miso Soup I would like to share, as well as one of Shrimp Stir Fry that was to die for).  
**

**Chapter 7**

**Possession  
**

The following week passed by quickly enough; the school was cleaned, dorms returned to their normal state, and the groaning voices of exhausted students began to rise in the air as the return to classes quickly approached. The trains were due to arrive the weekend before the start of classes, aimed toward getting the students back 'school-mode' and to start organizing their items.

It was in this period of time that Hermione and Draco spent as much time together as possible; with the return to classes at the edge of the horizon, they knew that their time together would grow more and more limited. They were both devoted students and had tendencies to spend more time in the library and immersed in books than doing other activities, and with the return of their friends came the return of visiting one another.

He knew that once Potter, Weasel, and Weaslette came back into the picture, they would be trying their damndest to keep Hermione was far from Draco as possible.

Of course, he was willing to let them try as much as they could, but, unless he find a good reason to, he would be forced to let Hermione go with them if she wanted to.

All because of that damn agreement they had made a week ago. She had all but forced him to comply, having caught him in a rather…difficult scenario. So, he had essentially had no choice but to agree with her 'rules,' so long as she did the same for him. He would not have a one-sided relationship or 'rule.'

On their last 'vacation Saturday', we find the couple sitting comfortably in the sitting room, Draco lazing on the armchair with Hermione practically draped over the couch, a book pressed up to her nose.

He hadn't bothered getting dressed that morning; he wore his favourite loose fitting green silk pyjama pants and nothing else. Hermione had laughed quite a bit when she saw that there were little snakes on the pants that wriggled and hissed. She, on the other hand, had stolen one of his shirts and had yanked on her only pair of leggings, which made the draping of her body all the easier.

"You're not going to greet Potty and Weasel?"

She didn't look away from her book at the sound of his voice, if anything she pressed it closer and adjusted her position, swinging her leg on the back of the couch in her infamous 'comfortable' position.

"I don't really need to, do I?" she replied after a moment's silence.

He looked at her over the book he held, eyeing her appreciatively before letting out a low sigh. "They are your friends, aren't they, in spite of being annoying gits?"

"Yes, and I saw them not long ago, so why should I feel the need to greet them?"

She was hiding something. She thought he didn't know her, she thought that he couldn't read her all too well, but in the past few weeks, he had gotten to know her better than her friends had probably ever known her, and she was hiding something.

"What happened?"

She lowered her book the slightest this time, sending an annoyed look his way. "Just because I don't feel the need to meet them doesn't mean something happened."

Dog-earing the page and smirking in response to her wince, he closed his book and settled it on his lap.

"Hermione, it's because you have no reason that I think something happened," he pointed out, stretching in the chair.

"Well you're wrong." She lifted the book back up to cover her face as though it would end the discussion.

He frowned at her for a moment, turning his gaze to watch the roaring fire crackle merrily on the hearth. She _was_ hiding something from him; he knew it, his Malfoy senses were tingling. Something about the way she responded, keeping all emotion from her voice, the way she hid her face, it told him that something had transpired between her and one of the Douchebag Duo had done something to her that made her want to avoid confronting them for as long as possible.

Hermione wouldn't have said anything, that much he knew. She was true to her word, if she made a promise she would keep it, no matter what, so he knew that she hadn't blabbed about their relationship. Besides, he would have been swamped in Howlers for the past couple of weeks if she had told them, and the lack of screaming red letters was a sure sign she had not spoken.

This meant only one thing…one of them had done something to her that had made her uncomfortable, at the very least.

Potty wouldn't do anything to jeopardize their relationship…he, out of the two douchebags, had actually showed some sign of _real_ platonic love for the girl.

Weaslette was annoying, yes, but she would never do anything that would hurt Hermione; when he looked at the way the two interacted, he understood the meaning of sisterhood. He could easily say that their relationship was very similar to his and Blaise's; they were close enough to be considered 'like' siblings, and yet they were not blood related.

That only left…

"What the fuck did Weasel do to you?"

He saw her fingers clench involuntarily around the book, watched her body tensed momentarily before, very much like water pouring over her, a rippling wave of forced calmness washed over her. His nostrils flared in annoyance at her silence and he felt his irritation slowly rising.

"Hermione."

She ignored him again.

He clenched his teeth in annoyance…if that damn Weasel did _anything_ to her…if he even _touched_ her…he was going to kill the bastard. Tear him apart, limb by limb.

He slowly unfolded himself from the chair, fluidly and silently making his way over to where Hermione lay on the couch. Lowering his hand, he yanked the book out of her grasp and snapped it shut. When she made several sounds of protest and reached to grab it, he flung it across the room, causing her to curse rather loudly and colourfully.

"What the hell was that for?" she snapped, sitting up on the couch. "You don't _throw_ books! That's abuse!"

"Shut up."

"Don't bloody well tell me to shut up, I told you; nothing happened. Bloody hell, I can't believe you threw the book!" she continued, standing up to glare at him and jab a finger at his chest. "That's bloody rude."

"What did Weasel do?"

"Nothing!"

"Then why are you avoiding him?" He moved closer and she unconsciously to a step back, back of her knees already pressed against the edge of the couch. "Why won't you give me a straight answer, Hermione, instead of avoiding it?"

"Because…I find it unnecessary to answer your silly questions," she replied, averting her eyes for only a moment.

It took that single moment, that little split second, to let him know that she was lying. He leaned forward, shifting his weight so that she was forced to sit back on the couch, and he pressed his hands on the back, encasing her head.

"Hermione…what did he do? If that fucker so much as touched you inappropriately, I will fucking kill him, do you understand?"

She stared up at his face and felt, for the first real time since meeting him years ago, real fear. His eyes were dark, furious clouds, swirling storms that came with the threat of thunder and lightning. His skin was taut, lips thinned and jaw clenched, nostrils flaring and brow furrowed as she saw true rage pass across his features. A heady musk filled the air; masculine with a hint of rain, making her truly think that he was a walking storm-cloud.

"You know Hermione, if you don't tell me, I'll be forced to assume, and I will assume the worst," he threatened, voice low and rumbling, like thunder echoing from his chest.

She saw no way out; she couldn't lie, she had quickly clued in that he could read her easier and faster than she could read _Hogwarts: A History_, and lying would only get her in more trouble. She wanted to tell the truth, but at the same time wanted to avoid it as much as possible; if he was reacting this badly to the _notion_ that Ron had done something, she feared what he might do if he found out Ron had just tried to cop a feel.

"You don't have to be so bloody threatening," she replied sharply.

"You could give me a straight answer," he returned, eyes flashing with increased annoyance.

"Do you honestly want to know?" she asked, puffing up as much as she could so that she felt bigger, stronger, and more defiant in response to his overly masculine actions.

"Why do you think I'm asking?" he retorted, moving closer to her, voice lowering dangerously.

"When we hugged, he tried to…get a feel," she snapped, fed up of his attitude. "He was just being a bloody prat, and it was more annoying than anything, and I really don't feel like seeing the git right now, okay? It was rude, made me uncomfortable, and I wanted to hex him for it! And then he had the gall to follow me out of the bloody house and ask me to be his girlfriend. Honestly, I am not in the bloody mood to deal with his pathetic antics right now, and I'm going to avoid him as much as possible!" She huffed loudly, glaring up at him. "Are you happy?"

"He…tried to _touch_ you?" He spoke the words as though it was the worst offense in the entire world, and she swore his eyes flashed bright white, lightning flashing in the dark, threatening clouds.

"Barely," she replied, trying to push her annoyance away and let a calmness wash over her. She knew that if she argued back, it would only increase his rage and jealousy, and that by using a calming, easing voice, she would be able to diffuse some of his anger. "He just reached a bit further in our hug, that's all; it wasn't anything major, just…uncomfortable. I don't feel like he…assaulted me at all. It was awkward," she explained.

"Where?"

"What?"

"Where did that bastard try to touch you?" Draco snapped, hands clenching the couch, nails digging into the furniture on either side of her head.

Breathing deeply, she swallowed thickly before trying to gain some leverage in this argument. A part of her wanted to tell him, just to get the damn thing done and over with, but at the same time, she knew that would be the single most idiotic thing she could ever possible do. If she told Draco, then the bloody prat would sprint on over to Weasel and do nothing short but murder the prat.

And, she admitted, Ron may be an insensitive, selfish prat, but he was still her friend.

It was with much resolved and, according to a large section of her brain, much stupidity, that she inhaled, looked up at the menacing figure of her lover, and snapped out the words, "I don't have to tell you anything; it's my business, not yours."

She didn't know what happened, didn't know how things wound up this way, and she had had no idea whatsoever that he had been aroused in any way or form, but the next thing she knew, her head was being crushed into the couch as his lips swooped down and savagely captured hers in a bruising kiss.

She had expected the worst, had thought that he would rant and scream, that he would demand she tell him or the very thing happening would no longer occur; she had not expected him to kiss her with such ferocity it made her teeth chatter and her heart thunder wildly in her chest. She did not expect him to growl in such a primitive way, had not anticipated the burning sensation his hands left as they ran down her arms, and she couldn't stop her body from shivering uncontrollably in his embrace.

"Fucking Weasel," he snarled against her lips, dragging his mouth down to suckle and bite her neck, tugging the flesh in to suck until she squirmed under his touch. "How dare he touch what is mine."

The words registered in her mind and she had had a retort formed instantaneously, but it was quickly drowned out by the feel of liquid heat filling and pouring from her abdomen, electricity sizzling through her veins to overwhelm and set her body on fire. The way he said those damn possessive words, the way his lips latched onto her neck and bruised her pale flesh, it made her let out the longest mewling cry she had ever voiced.

Damn him and his bruising kisses, damn his hot hands and their fiery touch, and damn his bloody strong body that made quick work of her shirt and had it in shreds on the floor in seconds. She wanted to tell him that she was her own woman, that no man could control her body, but he and his damn touch made every coherent thought in her mind burn away in ecstasy's fire.

His fingers burned her breasts, digits making quick work of the clasp before reaching out to cup and brutally massage the twin globes. Her head slammed back, eyes rolling as his lips trailed a route of flame down to her pert nipples, taking them in mouth each in turn, savagely suckling them until she cried out pleasure, nails digging into his scalp to press his mouth harder against her smooth flesh.

His teeth bit at the ivory globes, tongue lashing like a hot whip against her heated flesh, and she swore she nearly came when he snarled out against her breasts, "Mine, these are mine…you're fucking mine."

"Sweet Circe!"

One hand slipped past the waistband of her leggings, fingers sliding mercilessly over the soaked panties before tugging them aside and plunging rapidly into her aching core. She clawed his back, arching against his brutal kisses that trailed down her stomach, legs twitching involuntarily, one foot pressing against the coffee table for support.

"Mine," he growled, biting her abdomen just beside her belly button, sending electric frissons up her spine. "All mine."

She was babbling now, whimpering his name, listing a variety of words that hardly made any sense, demanding his touch grow harder, crying for him to move faster, begging for him to stop the foreplay and take her.

Her leggings were tugged unceremoniously down her quaking legs, tossed off to the side, forgotten as her underwear was torn off of her body. She nearly cried when his fingers left her to engage in the process of stripping her, and she screamed when he plunged three back into her soaked heat. His free hand wrapped around her back, pulling her body closer to his as his fingers brutally slammed in and out of her wet center.

"Only for me," he growled, pressing his mouth against her ear, tongue slipping out to twine around her earlobe. "Come…come only for me."

His words, his fingers, his…everything…every little thing about him made her body tense up and, with a wordless cry; she fell into the abyss of pleasure as her body shook violently in his grasp. She was left shaking and sweaty, unable to get a single grasp of reality, and had just begun to form a single coherent sentence before he mercilessly cut her reprieve short with his squirming, sliding, and scissoring fingers.

"Shit," she moaned, draping her body on his, mouth pressing feverish kisses over his sweat soaked shoulders.

"Again."

She was about to ask what, ready to lean back, look him in the eye and wonder aloud what he was talking about, when his fingers found that deliciously swollen and sensitive spot within her walls. After several short jabs, she was falling again, a loud scream leaving her lips as her body convulsed again and again around his fingers, juice gushing out to cover his fingers.

She was going to die…Hermione Granger was going to die from a damn pleasure overload in Draco Malfoy's arms…time and time again, his fingers slid in and out, harder and faster than the last, always snarling out "Again," with every flick, every bruising caress, every little heated touch that made her moan his name.

"Stop," she begged, sobbing into his neck, "I can't…no more…please, Draco…"

He paused at her throat, stopping halfway through bruising her sweet flesh with his mouth, to lift his eyes to her. "Stop what, my little vixen?"

"I can't take it anymore," she gasped, squirming violently in his arms. "Please…just do it…stop this…"

"Just do what?" She felt his smile against her neck, heard the smirk in his words, making his voice that much deeper, all that much more sensual to the point that she shuddered in his arms as her body convulsed around him again.

"Fuck," he groaned, biting her jaw.

"Draco…please…I…" a part of her couldn't believe she was about to say it…still couldn't believe, hours afterwards, years later, that she said those words, "fuck me. Fuck me, Draco! Take me! Take all of me!"

Hot, heated laughter bubbled out of his throat, so damn erotic that she nearly came again if it weren't for the fact that his fingers slid out of her. She heard him fumbling with his pants, listened as they thumped softly when they found the floor. Suddenly, she wriggled with pleasure when she felt his hardness pressing against her moist slit. She instinctively reached out, hand grasping the soft steel of his length, fingers dancing along it until she heard his hiss out a breath.

Her hand was yanked away from his erection, quickly joined by the other to be pressed against the back of the couch above her head, held still by one of his own. His lips moved down to meet hers in a furious kiss, teeth gnashing and gnawing, tongues twining and lashing, and she moaned into his mouth, unable to hold back for much longer.

"You're mine," he snarled, releasing her hands to grasp her hips, sliding his hot length into her in one stroke, slamming hard and deep. "All mine."

Her kisses peppered his throat, tongue hot against his already heated flesh, nails clawing his abusing back as he slid savagely in and out of her aching core.

"I'll let them all know," Draco growled, cupping her buttocks to lift her hips, letting him move deeper within her, "that you're mine. They won't fucking touch you…nobody fucking touches you except me. Especially. Not. That. Weasel." He emphasized the last four words with a hard thrust that had her screaming for mercy.

She had…she had to let him know it went both ways…even though all she wanted to do was to completely fall apart in his arms. She desperately needed to let him know that he was hers just as much as she was his.

Her fingers daringly slid down his body, sliding between them to grasp his testicles, massaging the heavy sac in her hand.

"You're mine," she snarled, moving her mouth over his, revelling in the way pleasure rippled down his body. "Don't forget, you're mine just as I'm yours."

He groaned out a deep-throated yes before capturing her mouth with his, kissing her with the same brutality as he thrust into her, sliding harder and faster in and out of her wet heat, coming undone in her arms just as she fell completely apart in his. They went wild, lost all conscious thought as they performed the most savage, primitive ritual known to mankind. Bodies slapping against one another, heated rising in thick waves from their flesh, hearts beating wildly as the heady musk of sex filled the air. Pleasure overrode every other sensation and they moved in time, and yet so wildly that it was hard to believe they kept a proper tempo.

Her scream was quickly joined by his shouted groan, bodies stopping suddenly, clenching, twitching, pulsating against each other as they reached the pinnacle of pleasure, before collapsing in a sweaty heat on top of each other.

Black tinged the edge of her vision, and she was surprised she was still alive, given that her lungs were void of air and her heart beat painfully quickly in her chest. She swore he suffered as much as her, both bodies limp as overcooked noodles, feeling more like they had run a few dozen marathons as opposed to having engaged in the most satisfying, sensual, and primitive sexual act of their lives.

He was half draped on her, half off of the couch, face pressed against her stomach, eyes shut as he fought to regain his breath. Her fingers slowly made their way into his hair to twine around the silken locks, gently massaging his scalp, as though the very movement might calm their bodies and help them regain a sense of control over their minds and limbs.

"I…I didn't hurt you, did I?" he half mumbled against her stomach, unwilling to try and move his heavy body.

She couldn't help it; she shivered at the feeling of his breath against her sensitized skin. "No," she murmured softly. "What…what was that all about…? I thought you were going to kill someone."

She felt his cheeks shift and knew that he was smiling against her stomach. "I was…and I couldn't bear the thought of anyone, especially Weasel, touching you…and…I supposed I needed to mark my territory."

She snorted, fingers pausing mid-stroke of his scalp, and her head tilted to look down at him. He looked so bloody content, smiling like a cat that had just drank the most delicious cream ever.

Bastard.

"Well…I can't say I object to your 'methods,' but please, perhaps a little warning next time." She stretched her already relaxed body, turning her neck to knock out any kinks that had been forced into place by the position.

He laughed against her stomach and opened his eyes, angling his head to look up at her. The laughter faded for a moment, eyes hardening as seriousness took over his gaze. "Hermione."

"Mm?"

"Don't let that bastard touch you again. And if he does, you tell me right away, understand? You're mine, and I won't let anybody mistreat you."

She couldn't help it; her smile broadened at his possessive words. She had always wanted someone like that in her life, someone who, no matter how much she complained, no matter how hard she fought back, would be willing to step up and stand by her side no matter what. She knew that she could take care of herself, and she knew that he knew it, but that fact that he wanted to protect her, that he wanted to take care of her…it made her heart skip.

"I think I'm falling even more in love with you Draco, even if you are a possessive prat," she whispered, moving on the couch to let him lie beside her.

He reclined next to her, pressing gentle kisses to her shoulder and collarbone. "I promise I won't let Weasel do anything like that ever again," he murmured against her skin, hugging her closer when she shivered. "Besides…I think he might back off for a while."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well…he'll be too busy looking for the bloke that covered your neck in so many delectable hickeys."

Her hand slapped to her throat, eyes flying open at his words. "Draco!" she cried, forcing him off of the couch as she leapt to her feet, rushing off to the bathroom and leaving him in a heap on the floor.

"Five, four, three, two, one," he counted down slowly, smiling in spite of his uncomfortable position.

"YOU BLOODY PRAT!"

He burst into laughter, quite pleased with his handiwork.

Let Weasel try and take her…let the redheaded bastard try to touch her…he would have another thing coming if he ever came closer to Hermione ever again.

Draco would make the bastard pay.

It was a promise he intended to keep.

* * *

Ron sniffled glumly as they stepped out of the train, the cold washing over his body like a foreboding wave, a strange sensation that told him that this place was no longer as welcome as it used to be. He wasn't sure exactly what instigated the sensation; perhaps the chilly cold, the frigid wind, or maybe it was the way Harry and Ginny kept sending furtive looks his way. All he knew was that something was telling him to stay away from the place he had called his second home for the past seven years of his life.

Assuming that it was just a figment of his imagination, he shrugged his shoulders roughly and pushed the feeling aside. Clearing his throat, he looked to Harry and then surveyed the station. Friends were greeting friends, couples rushing forth to meet in a mashing of the lips and a crashing of the bodies, companions laughing jovially as they struck up conversation within seconds of greeting each other.

It was a pleasant sight, a platform filled with warmth and compassion in spite of the chilling temperatures. Ron looked around expectantly, hoping that she might appear, mashing her lips against his as she greeted him. He knew that she had missed him; did not have a single doubt in his mind. They were made for each other.

Slowly, the warmth seeped away from his body, eyes falling and shoulders slumping as he realized that she was nowhere in sight. His lips curled into a scowl and he turned to Harry.

"Where is she?"

Arching a brow in confusion, Harry was prepared to shrug his shoulders and ask who before he realized that Ron could be talking about only one woman.

Hermione.

He felt Ginny clench his hand in support, felt her fear rising as she expected Ron to throw a fit in the middle of the Hogsmeade station. Letting out a quiet sigh, Harry rolled his shoulders and replied; "She's probably in the library, doing more extra credit work. She doesn't _have_ to come and meet us here; we've never done that before."

He made sense; Hermione had never once met them at the train station, nor had they ever met Hermione there as the end of winter break. There had been no need for it; they always met up in the school, which they would surely do once they got their things settled once more.

Ron wasn't sure whether he should believe Harry or not; it sounded like one of the many excuses he had heard before and it was debateable as to whether or not it made any sense. He hated to admit, however, that Harry did prove a point. Heaving a breath, he nodded and allowed Harry to lead the way back to the school.

He wanted to see her, desperately needed to feel her contact, but he supposed that it would have to wait. Perhaps the delay in their meeting would only make it stronger, emphasize the passion and love that they had for each other. Then, then she would see the mistake she made two years ago. She would see that he was right; they were made for each other, that they would someday marry and have children, she would stay home, take care of the brood.

It would be like those families he saw in those old Muggle television shows, where the husband comes home to a bountiful dinner, gorgeous wife and beautiful children, receiving nothing but love.

He couldn't wait.

He would show her that he was perfect for her, that she was meant to be with no one else but him, and then she would fall in his arms, crying out his name in love, and the world would be right again.

"Ron, are you going to get in or not?"

Blinking through his reveries, he looked up to see Ginny and Harry in the carriage, the Thestrals at the front whinnying impatiently.

"Sorry," he mumbled, clambering onto the carriage, sending a disgusted look to the skeletal horses that lead the carriages. He wished that he had never seen them; it was a constant reminder of all that he had lost.

But, he reminded himself, he promised that he wouldn't lose her. He wouldn't let her go; he would keep her, hold her in his arms, and lock her within his love.

She had no choice; they were made for each other.

* * *

Tightening her coat, Pansy stepped gracefully out of the carriage and looked up at the castle that was Hogwarts; a place that instigated a myriad of feelings from her: love, joy, disgust, annoyance, and comfort. The place was odd, the castle beautiful in its own way and yet foreboding in another. It felt like home, and yet it was a place she constantly wanted to leave.

At this moment, however, she had no choice but to be here. Draco was here, and he was in dire need of a new lesson.

"Stop staring, Pans, let's get inside before we freeze to death," Daphne said beside the brunette, gesturing to the edifice.

Nodding, Pansy and Daphne stepped up and walked back into the school, unable to bite back the sighs of relief as warmth flooded their bodies, turning their blueing skin a bright lively pink. Untangling the scarf from around her neck, Pansy looked around the Great Hall, listening to the voices of friends as they laughed and talked loudly about their vacations. The air seemed to be filled with excitement, rumours abound, fluttering around in the air like a restless wind, trying to fall on all ears that were willing to listen.

"Did you hear about the Gryffindor New Year's Party?"

"What happened?"

"It was a blast! Did you know that … snogged?"

"What?"

"Under the mistletoe!"

"And then they had no choice but to snog!"

"They sat at the Gryffindor table! Right with the others! And nothing happened!"

"A Ravenclaw told me that they've been dating in secret."

Pansy looked over to Daphne, arching a brow in curiosity. "I wonder what happened over the holidays."

Shrugging, Daphne looked over the Great Hall, trying to find her conniving little sister in the crowd. "Who knows? It's only gossip; we don't know if it's true or not."

"All gossip starts with a fact," Pansy replied, pushing through the crowd to find someone who might prove to be a fountain of knowledge. Sighing heavily, Daphne hurried on, ignoring the loud shout of outrage that came from across the hall. She pushed her way through the throng of students and slipped through a couple before finding Pansy listening avidly to a couple of younger Slytherin girls, who seemed to be glowing. Their arms moved wildly and she watched as her friend's expression grew from childishly curious to grimmer and grimmer with every passing second.

Something happened.

Something that she hadn't want happening had happened.

Something bad.

"Can you believe it?"

Daphne blinked, tilting her head to listen in on a reuniting couple's conversation. The girl, a sixth year from Gryffindor, was talking loudly to her boyfriend, a sixth year Hufflepuff, and seemed to be rather excited over the news that she had in store for her lover.

"What happened, Elle?"

"Well, first off, on New Year's Eve, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini sat at the _Gryffindor_ table! Can you believe it? They just sat there!"

"Really? Why?"

"Well, you'll never guess with whom; it was _Hermione Granger_, of all people! Apparently they've become good mates over the holidays or something…I think it's a bit fishy, but I don't have any proof. So they just sat there and apparently they wanted to stop the old feud and try making new friendships."

"How did everyone react?"

Daphne's heart thundered in her chest; things were not going well at all and she feared to hear the next thing that might leave the girl's lips.

"They invited them to the Gryffindor New Year's party for an initiation of sorts. And the most amazing thing happened!"

Daphne strained, hands clenched tightly, body stiff as she continued to listen in, watching Pansy's morphing expressions through a thick fog that had settled over her eyes.

"Well…it was quite funny, they had Draco and Blaise dress up as lions and sing the Gryffindor theme song…but really, it's not all that important." Daphne bit back a chuckle. "The important stuff happened right 'round midnight! Guess who snogged under the mistletoe!" Daphne's stomach plummeted and the girl didn't wait for her boyfriend's reply before continuing. "Malfoy and Hermione! Can you believe it? Apparently they got stuck under enchanted mistletoe, but, if you ask me, the kiss was a little too long for it to have been just the mistletoe. I mean, when Blaise and Malfoy got stuck, their kiss was a _lot_ shorter!"

Daphne choked and coughed loudly, turning away from the couple in fear of being caught eavesdropping. Her eyes flittered over to Pansy, blinking away the tears from her spasms, and she pounded on her chest, as though it might help her breath again. Just as she cleared away the tears, Pansy marched back over, looking like an infuriated ghost; her skin was pale, yet her eyes glowed with merciless rage.

"Did you hear?" she shrieked, earning several glances from the surrounding students. "They…they … that fucking slag _snogged_ my Draco!"

"Slag! Slag! You fucking wench, she's no slag!"

Daphne looked up to find a certain red-haired, red-faced Weasley glaring at her friend from several feet away. Groaning inwardly, she rubbed her face, knowing that this was going to only lead to disaster.

"Yes! She's a bloody slag! She … _coerced_…Draco into kissing her! She charmed him or made him drink a potion! Why else would he dare snog that disgusting slag?" Pansy shouted back, face reddening with growing fury.

Ron stepped forward; pushing away Harry's arms as the crowd drew back, forming a wide circle around the shouting duo.

"You're the slag!" Ron snapped, eyes flashing. "Hermione's not a slag! It's Malfoy who hexed her! He probably got fed up being with a dirty whore like you and, because Hermione is gorgeous and smart, he went after her! Of course, she rejected the slimy git, so he had to force himself on her!"

"Draco is not a slimy git, you blood traitor, and Granger is disgusting chit! She knows all sorts of spells; remember back in fourth year? She managed to get Krum and Potter under her spell! I'll bet she's using the same thing on poor Draco!"

"I wasn't under any spell," Harry said, although his words were immediately drowned out by Ron's cry of outrage.

"Shut your mouth, you bloody idiot! Why would she want a useless ferret?"

"What the hell would he see in a frizzy haired chit?"

"Draco's nothing but a Death Eater through and through; why would she want such a cowardly bastard?"

"I don't see what he would see in such a dirty Mudblood like Granger!"

"You bitch!"

"Arse!"

Wands were flung out, sparks flickering from the ends as both students' insults ceased; their eyes glowing with threat and menace, sparks flashing from the orbs, hands clenched tightly around their wands. Harry was gripping tightly onto Ron's shoulder, holding in check the fury that filled his eyes. Daphne had rushed to Pansy, trying to pull her friend back and avoid anymore embarrassing battles for the day.

"Stop it Pans, he's not worth it. We'll just go find Draco and find out what's going on," she said to her friend, squeezing the girl's shoulder.

"Ron, forget it; don't waste your time on her; let's go, find Hermione, and learn the truth. I'll bet it's just a bunch of rumours some first years started for fun," Harry muttered to Ron, voice shaking with restrained rage.

The duo shook with fury, wands pointed at each other in a menacing manner, eyes flashing darkly with concentration and rage. Just as Pansy lifted her wand, spell on her lips, Ron's wrist drew back, mouth opening in preparation of shouting out his spell, a loud shout broke through the silence that had ensued the fight.

"What is going on here? Mr. Weasley, Miss Parkinson! Put your wands away immediately!"

All eyes spun to face a rather livid looking Professor McGonagall, who was in the process of striding quickly down the stairs. Several students dispersed, heading back out, into the Great Hall, or in various other directions, while others remained to watch the backlash of Pansy and Ron's unrestrained anger.

"_She_ insulted Hermione!" Ron snapped, gesturing to Pansy with his wand, several sparks flying out of the tip.

"_He_ called Draco a Death Eater!" Pansy cried, mimicking Ron's gesture with the same resulting sparks.

"_She_ called Hermione a Mudblood!"

"Be quiet, both of you! I do not want to know who said what or who started this, put both of your wands away now or I shall take away all of your privileges," McGonagall snapped, wand out and ready to disarm anyone who dared ignore her demand. She knew these students, knew that, unlike the previous years, they knew more damaging spells than they should know. They could easily cause pain and if she had to disarm one of them, so be it. They were trained in the art of war and she had to let them know that this was not the place to be practicing those spells.

"Ron, put your bloody wand away!" Harry said sharply, shaking his friend's shoulders.

"Pans, please, just put it away; it's not worth it," Daphne said, reaching out to grasp Pansy's forearm in an attempt to force the girl to lower her wand.

Ron's ears glowed a bright red, matching the vermillion of his cheeks, as his eyes lowered slowly in shame as he began to truly understand the situation. They were fools, both of them; fighting because of some stupid rumours. Sighing heavily, he lowered his wand, sliding it back into his pocket.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said with a curt nod before turning her attention to Pansy. "Now, Ms. Parkinson, put your wand away."

Grumbling and cursing under her breath, Pansy saw that she would only come out looking like the arse in this situation. Grumpily, she shoved her wand back into the pocket of her coat before crossing her arms over her chest.

"Good, now, I want both of you in my office, immediately," the Headmistress finished, sending both students a pointed glare before spinning around and heading towards the mentioned destination. "And the rest of you, clear out! Don't you all have homework or studying to do? If I come back here and find all of you still congregated in this hall, you will all receive a month's worth of detentions!" she shouted to the crowd in the Great Hall.

Immediately, the students rushed towards their Houses, leaving only Ron, Harry, Ginny – who had made her way over when she had heard the commotion –, Daphne and Pansy in the center of the hall.

"You'd best do what you're told," Ginny said to Ron with a sigh on her lips. Her brother nodded and made his way after McGonagall, followed by Pansy, who had been convinced by Daphne. Ginny slowly turned to Harry once Ron was out of earshot and heaved a loud sigh. "Honestly, you'd think they'd all just ignore the bloody rumours."

Harry shook his head, running his hand through his hair to shove his bangs out of his eyes. He slowly lifted his head at the sound of footsteps and was rather surprised to find Daphne making her way over to them.

"Look," she began, fumbling with her fingers, "I just want to apologize for Pansy's behaviour. She can be a right idiot sometimes and doesn't always think before speaking; she can be a good person, but…well…she's…Pansy. But it doesn't excuse her for what she said; it's horrible that she stills uses that word."

Harry slowly blinked in reaction, unable to understand how this girl, a Slytherin and Pansy's friend to boot, was apologizing for the other girl's behaviour. He had heard that some of the Slytherins had changed ideals and sides after the war, but he had never expected any of Pansy's comrades to be in the group.

Ginny was first to break the spell of shocked perplexity, lips curling into a smile. "Thank you, uh…Daphne, isn't it?"

"Yes, Daphne Greengrass."

"Yes, thank you Daphne. I'm sorry for my brother's behaviour, too; he is a right git sometimes and doesn't really know how to think."

It was Daphne's turn to blink in surprise, mouth forming an O; she had not expected them to respond so kindly. She thought that they would try to chase her off or call her a dirty Slytherin chit. Slowly smiling, she nodded to the couple. "Thank you. I'll see you when classes begin," she added, turning away to head down to the dungeons.

In spite of the constant feuds between Slytherins and Gryffindors, maybe the walls were slowly breaking down. Who knew? It would take some time, breaking down the wall brick by brick, but, eventually, the wall would be no more and both sides would be able to hold out hands of friendship and alliance.

Daphne just hoped that nobody came along to ruin the growing alliance.

* * *

**I know the chapter was a bit long, but I had so much I wanted to put it, and yet, I still had to abbreviate/cut out some things. Oh well. I hope that you all enjoyed it and please feel free to send me critical criticism as well as any editing that I may have missed while writing and rereading some sections. In case some of you are thinking "why doesn't she get a beta?" well...I take long enough to write a chapter, it would probaby take even longer if I got a beta, lol. **

**So yeah, reviews are more than welcome, criticical criticism suggested, and flames shall be tossed into the cold, wet Canadian snow that plagues Quebec every winter. **

**Thanks for reading!!!  
**


	8. Midnight Stroll

**Chapter 8**

**Midnight Stroll**

Classes began on a very exciting note to say the least. Rumours were spreading, flitting rapidly through the air to slowly consume the school. The fight between Pansy and Ron that had resulted in both receiving two months worth of detentions and Hogsmeade visits temporarily revoked, the possibility that there is a picture floating about of Draco and Blaise snogging under the mistletoe, and, the most exciting of all, the notion that Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had snogged on New Year's and were now an 'item.'

These thoughts consumed the minds of the students to the point where several were no longer paying attention in class. Fights were breaking out between Slytherins and Gryffindors, shouting in defence of their Housemate, claiming that they would never become involved in the other. Even Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were arguing loudly over whether the rumours were correct or not. Somebody had manipulated the rumour to say that Hermione had been snogging Blaise, or that Draco had not been snogging Hermione, but another girl who resembled her. Needless to say, the entire school was playing the game of telephone and with each passing hour, the rumours were more and more intricate, detailed, and nonsensical than the last.

Hermione had taken to darting throughout the hallways, avoiding the probing students and Ron's constant questioning. She hid in the Head's Common Room, listening as Draco ranted and raved about the constant rumours that were slowly ruining their year.

The blond man, on the other hand, was, on the outside, taking things in stride. He denied everything with Blaise and Goyle at his side, supporting his every word. He managed to divert the attention of the curious students by pointing out other things, particularly the fight that amused him so much. A part of him wished that Pansy had hexed off one of Weasley's limbs, but another part didn't want Pansy getting all of the credit for such an awesome feat. Instead, he was stuck with dealing with every little rumour there was in the world.

There were several delicious little rumours that Draco sometimes found amusing, so silly, so unbelievable that it made him smile while Hermione would bury her reddened face into a book as embarrassment overwhelmed her. On other times, she was the one ranting loudly while he watched with a smile on his lips, unable to contain his amusement at the way she fretted loudly.

Needless to say, the first week and a half back were absolute turmoil, with detentions being tossed out daily to students of all ages and from all Houses, shouting matches found in every corner of the school, and the two caught in the center of the gossip were finding the stress slowly mounting to an almost exploding point.

Draco paced in front of the fireplace, running his hands through his hair, cursing under his breath as Hermione sat curled on the couch, book forgotten as she listened to Draco rant and rave about the latest development of the rumours. Apparently someone said that they had 'caught' him and Hermione shagging in a tower, which was completely untrue, for all shagging took place in their safe Heads' Room. However, it didn't stop the rumours from spreading even faster.

"Fucking twats," he growled, throwing his hands up in exasperated fury. "Honestly, you'd think they'd have something better to do with their time! And those bloody arseholes who do nothing but insult us! Fucking bloody hell! 'Draco would rather cut off his own balls than sleep with that stupid chit! 'Hermione would rather sleep with a House Elf than the bastard!' It goes on and on!"

Hermione, having been on the receiving end of rumours for years, had thought that she would be able to take this with ease, was finding her nerves growing more and more frayed with each passing minute. "I know, Draco!" she snapped. "I hear it all the time, too!"

"Fucking hell," he cursed, spinning to give her a hard glare. "You know, if we could just be open about it, if we could just let everyone know that yes, we are together, these damn rumours would stop!"

"This is exactly the reason _why_ we have to keep it quiet! The school is growing more chaotic with each day!" she cried, throwing out an arm for emphasis. "All everyone does is argue! If we came out and told everyone the truth, what do you think would happen?"

"They would stop insulting you!" Draco snapped back, eyes flashing. "I can't stand the way they talk about you! My own bloody House! And I have to listen to it every day at meals, in every class, every hour. I can't go around taking off House points because then they'll know and hell, I'm bloody tired of yelling at them!"

Hermione unfolded herself from the couch, standing slowly in front of her lover. "You think I'm not tired of listening to my House? At least you have Blaise and Goyle; Luna's in a completely different House. All Harry does is grumble and whine, and hell, don't even get me started on Ron. Seamus and Dean are all right, but even they're getting involved in the bloody rumours and starting to ask me damn annoying questions."

"So why can't we just come out and be honest?" Draco cried, spreading his arms wide, moving around animatedly. "Why can't we just tell everyone that we're together and they can fucking sod off for all I care?"

"Because Ron and Harry will try to kill you, and you'd probably end up killing Ron and you and Harry would be in the Hospital Wing!" Hermione shouted back, fists clenched at her sides. "Do you honestly expect to accept this relationship with ease? Do you think that they'll suddenly be great and happy, ready to accept you with open arms? Hell, they're at likely to accept you as Pansy is as likely to accept me!"

"I don't care; I just want this bullshit to stop!"

"You think telling everyone will make it stop? It'll just make things worse! We just have to deal with this for a little bit longer."

"How much longer, Hermione? Because my patience is wearing thinner with each day."

She chewed frantically on her lower lip, fidgeting with the hem of her blouse. "I don't know…"

He ran a hand over his face in impatience. "Avoiding Weasel isn't helping, you know. You're supposed to be calming him down, not ignoring him to the point that he starts screaming and raving."

"I know that!" she snapped. "But I just can't deal with his insane ideas! I've denied it time and time again and all he does is try to pressure me! How do you expect me to deal with him?"

"He's your friend, you're responsibility."

"He's as much my responsibility as Pansy is yours! Don't start talking to me like I'm supposed to be responsible for everyone Ron says or does! I'm not his bloody mother."

He continued to pace, cursing loudly with every step. "Fucking hell…I never thought things would be this bad."

"That's because you're never been on the receiving end of rumours before," she retorted sharply, reminding him of all those years of torture he put her through, his taunting of her, his exploiting and abusing of any rumours that had begun surrounding her and her friends. "You've always helped start them and never had to deal with the consequences."

"Yes, well, I was a right prat back then," he returned without hesitation in his steps. "But honestly, I think this is worse than any bloody rumour I've ever started."

"How come? Because it involves you?" she responded snappishly.

"Because no rumour ever really had people fighting like this. Because everyone is reacting worse than when we said you were dating Potter or that Potter was the Prince of Slytherin. You'd expect people to be more mature after the war, not worse than before!"

"Well maybe you shouldn't have gotten stuck under the mistletoe with me!"

"Me? So you're trying to make it my fault? Don't be so bloody stupid! You moved under the mistletoe after me."

"Ha! I clearly remember going to get something to drink and you 'materializing' beside me. You knew the damn stuff was there, you probably overheard Seamus and Dean talking about it! I know that you wanted to kiss at the countdown, but hell, the least you could've have done was waited until we were alone."

"You initiated the damn thing," he replied, voice shaking with annoyance. "You moved towards me!"

"Oh sod off," she snapped, grabbing her robe from the back of the couch, making her way to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Away from you!" she shouted, yanking on the black robe. "I'm sick and tired of arguing, I want so peace and bloody quiet!" She toed on her shoes, made sure her wand was in her pocket, and sent him one last glare before slipping out of the door, slamming it behind her.

Draco groaned loudly, moving to collapse onto the couch, burying his face into his hands. Only a week and a half in and things were getting out of control…

How were they going to survive?

* * *

She marched through the corridors with unmet determination, frustration making every footstep a loud slap against the cold floors, annoyance giving her face a brilliant red glow as a constant flow of words and curses bubbled from her lips. She damned every little thing that sneaked into her mind, damning the students and their idiocy, damning Ron and his fat mouth, Pansy and her incessant reveries, and Draco and his silly expectancy for everything to go away with a few well chosen words.

Resisting the urge to knock over a suit of armour, Hermione took in several deep breaths and rounded the corner, leaning against the stone wall for support as she tried to calm her overflowing frustration. She had dealt with rumours her entire life, had been on the receiving end of bullies since she had first been integrated into the education system, and had become a permanent fixture of the rumour mill since befriending Harry. She should have been used to them by now, should be able to ignore the rumours, but she had never seen such chaos caused by a few words.

What bothered her the most was that, in the end, the initial, unexaggerated rumours were true and, in denying them, she was not only lying to every person she spoke with, but to her friends as well. In the past, she had always been able to confide in Harry or Ginny, had always been able to laugh at the rumours with them, to push them away with the confidence and strength of her friends standing beside her. Now, she had to rely on help from Draco, Blaise and, surprisingly enough, Goyle. Luna did her best, but she saw the threesome more often than the blonde.

Damn it all…she hated lying to her friends. She hated being unable to tell them the truth, and hated knowing that, if they knew the truth, they might refuse to remain her friends. She tried, time and time again, to watch their reactions whenever they heard the rumours, and she watched, time and time again, as they spent most of their time restraining Ron. Ginny was surprisingly quiet about it all, only growing vocal whenever insults were flung in Hermione's direction, while Harry spent most of his energy trying to calm down Ron.

She was already growing tired, she realized as she slid down the wall to sit on the floor. It was the beginning of semester and already she was exhausted. She was fed up of dealing with the treatment of the other students, tired of the stress, and unable to find any true relief from the stress that plagued her body. She had no idea how she was supposed to survive the remainder of the year, dodging insults, avoiding Harry's questioning gaze and Ron's unwanted affections.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, she scrambled to her feet and was in the process of turning back in the direction of the tower when her named was called. Wincing, she slowly turned back around to face Professor McGonagall.

"Yes, Headmistress?" she replied, adjusting her skirt.

The older woman moved closer to Hermione, long robes rustling against the stone floor. "What are you doing out of bed so late, Miss Granger?"

Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her blouse, swallowing thickly as she tried to think up of a believable excuse. "I…well…"

She swore she saw understanding flit into McGonagall's eyes, saw the woman's lips curl into a smile of sympathy, and was rather surprised at the woman's words. "The students have become rather…distracted lately, don't you think? All of these rumours." She sighed heavily, moving to stare out of a window, gazing down on the pristine school grounds. "You would think that the Houses would grow more united after the war, but now we spend every day splitting them apart."

Hermione blinked at the woman, unable to truly comprehend what this woman was saying. Well…she understood what McGonagall was saying, but why was she saying it? Did she know the truth? Well…she had to; she had caught Hermione and Draco snogging rather passionately in their Tower. The question was, however, why she was saying this. Was she just looking for someone to talk to? Why Hermione? Was this some ploy to get the truth out of Hermione?

She had no clue…

"To be honest," Hermione heaved quietly, crossing her arms under her chest, more hugging her body than anything, "I wanted some time alone."

McGonagall simply glanced her way, that strange smile on her lips, a cross between sympathy and understanding, and Hermione couldn't help but wonder if, for the first time in her life, the older woman was utilising her maternal instincts.

"It's just…so frustrating," she continued without thought, glad to have finally found someone she might be able to vent every single one of her problems to. She knew that the Headmistress would take no sides and she could only offer advice. She would not tell Hermione what to do, but instead give her an idea of what path to take. She was, Hermione realized much later on, a substitute for her own currently absent mother. "Everyone is talking about that New Year's kiss and they are manipulating it so that it's not even the truth anymore. I _can't_ tell the truth because…you know Harry and Ron…" Again, that smile. "Draco is just as frustrated, and now he wants to come clean, to tell the truth, but I know I can't…not until I try to make Harry and Ron calm down and understand…and…it's only been two weeks – two weeks! – and I'm exhausted." Letting out a sound of frustration, Hermione said the words she had rarely ever needed to say her entire life. "I don't know what to do."

Turning slightly, so she was half facing the window, McGonagall sent Hermione a more soothing, gentle smile. "Miss Granger, I would admit that I am a little surprised that you chosen me to divulge this information to, but at the same time, I am also feeling glad that you feel I am trustworthy enough. Now, concerning your problems, well, I suppose that the answer is quite obvious. You must find a way to tell Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley. I understand that this is a rather…volatile situation, particularly concerning your relationship with Mr. Malfoy and your friends' relationship with him, and you must be very careful when choosing your words. Would you like my advice on how to go about this?"

Hermione couldn't understand why McGonagall was being so open about this; she expected the Professor to tell her to stop worrying about such trivial subjects and to get back to the Tower, not have the woman offer her advice on the matter.

It was all very weird and made her feel slightly uncomfortable to see her Professor in such an odd state. It was peculiar to see McGonagall as a woman and not a Professor, even queerer to see her so…unlike herself.

"I…I suppose…"

The woman sent her another knowing smile and it made her face appear younger, softer…less stern and serious than it typically appeared. It was a lovely change from her typical demeanour and expressions.

"You will have to tell Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, that is quite obvious, but I must advise you that they must not be told suddenly. I highly suggest that you divulge the information to Mr. Potter first, so that he may have more time to consider the situation and aid you in explaining it to Mr. Weasley due to his rather…volatile nature. Mr. Malfoy will just have to wait, and, unfortunately for you, you must make him see why. Now," she smiled one final time, turning to fully face Hermione, "I suggest you stop thinking about these silly, trivial matters and start focusing on your schoolwork. It is difficult enough to teach with half of the student population distracted, I do not need my best students just as unfocused as the rest. Now, Miss Granger, I think that you should hurry back to the Heads' Dormitory before I take off points."

Hermione couldn't help but grin at the Professor; feeling strangely better in spite of the confusing fog that constantly dwelled within her mind. "Yes, Headmistress. Have a good night." She spun around, intending to hurry back to the tower, and paused, turning slightly to face the woman. "And…thank you, Headmistress…"

"Good night, Miss Granger."

Moving back down the hall, Hermione smiled in spite of herself, in spite of the chaotic world around her. She knew what she had to do; she had known it all along. It was silly yet fitting that it took a woman aged with wisdom and experience to tell her what to do. It was silly, yes, but she couldn't help but feel that at times, everyone needed someone resembling a mother figure to help them realize the obvious.

Although, she couldn't help but smile at the image of the severe McGonagall as a motherly figure but…times had changed; people were different, they saw different sides, heard different words, and felt a myriad of different emotions. Why restrict it to just the young? Why can't the older population change or have different sides as well?

"But it's just peculiar," she chuckled to herself, rounding another corridor.

"What's peculiar is seeing the Head Girl out after curfew."

Her head snapped up, expecting to see another Professor standing before her, and her eyes slowly widened when they met the freckled face of Ron.

* * *

Harry sat in the Common Room, sighing heavily as he stretched out on the couch, trying his hardest to focus on his homework and not everything else. Of course, that everything else always seemed to include the rumours spreading throughout the school, particularly the one where Hermione seemed to have snogged Draco Malfoy senseless.

He just couldn't believe it; Hermione and Draco…such an…unusual pairing, to say the very least. It was unthinkable, the idea that they had snogged, even if forced to because of the enchanted mistletoe. It made his head spin and his blood churn, frustration levels rising to an exploding point each time she denied the rumours.

Something was up…he just couldn't put his finger on it. The way she denied the rumours with such fervour, how Draco and his cronies acted like nothing had happened…something was adding up properly.

And Ron…that was a completely different story. Ron was ready to blow every second of the day, constantly causing a ruckus and drawing a bit too much attention whenever someone dared suggest that Draco was too good for Hermione.

Damn his friend and his volatile personality; Ron just couldn't keep his trap shut for more than five seconds, could he? Not only that, but he was begging to really…well, there was no other way to describe it…weird Harry out. His longing sighs when he looked at Hermione, the way he spoke about how they were meant for each other…all of it was growing creepier with each passing day.

Ron was getting really weird; all of this talk about how Hermione would see the light, how she promised that she would let him know how she felt, how he knew that it was only a matter of time before she went running to him with open arms, calling her love for him. He knew that his friend loved her but damn…lately, it was getting too strange and Harry had no idea how to snap his friend out of it.

And Hermione…she wasn't making things better. Avoiding Ron at all costs, which resulted in Ron's whining and bitching for hours on end, shouting that always involved insulting Hermione, and yet, the hypocrite would turn around and snap at anyone who dared insulted his 'precious Hermione.' With Hermione dodging them and Ron's emotions out in the open, Harry was strung out and exhausted. He was tired of listening to Ron's ranting, exhausted from having to practically chase after Hermione to ask her for a few notes from class…he was fed up.

Ron, the rumours, Hermione…things were so muddled up, all because of one damn New Year's party. Damn Seamus and Dean for having the brilliant idea to hold a party, damn Zabini and Malfoy for deciding to befriend the Gryffindors, and damn everyone else for manipulating and twisting the rumours.

Damn it all to hell…

"Harry?"

Blinking, he focused on the form of Ginny, curled comfortably on the chair beside him, Potions text in hand. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?"

He saw the genuine concern in her eyes, saw the way her lip curled in a way that said she was apprehensive, and couldn't help it when his heart fluttered. In these times, he couldn't depend on many people…but at least he could depend on Ginny.

"Yeah," he muttered, "I'm fine. Just…tired."

She nodded in response, scribbling a note down on the parchment she had laid out on her knee. "I know how you feel; everything is just so…"

"Mental?" he offered.

"Exactly." She shut her book, no longer able to concentrate on the course that she had hated her entire life, no matter who happened to be teaching it. "Hermione's avoiding us, you realize that?"

He nodded, "Yeah."

"I can understand why," she continued, ignoring his look of disbelief. "I mean, I would try to avoid Ron at all costs right now, too. His whole 'I'm going to get the truth, she really didn't snog that ferret, she is my fated lover,' and all of that nonsense is rather irritating, isn't it?"

"At the very least," Harry chuckled when she used a rather false, prophetic voice when imitating Ron. "But she doesn't realize that it's not helping the situation," he pointed out, gesturing to her with his quill.

Idly scratching the parchment with her quill, Ginny shrugged in response. "Can you blame her, though? All he does is shout at her, try to corner her and get the truth out of her. Her life has got to be stressful enough, what with classes and the bloody rumours, so it's easier if she just avoids another stress factor."

"Yes, but…"

"Harry, look," Ginny sighed, "Hermione is a big girl. Yes, it is quite…unthinkable that she would snog Draco Malfoy, and I would be right pissed and want to know why if she had, but we have to let her deal with things her way, even if they don't always seem to be the best."

He tore off the edge of his parchment, tearing it to small pieces. "But don't you think that someone should tell her…?"

"Let her learn on her own; for all we know, she has a plan and this is only part of it."

"The plan involves avoiding me, too?" he said, unable to keep the snapping tone out of his voice. "You know that she avoids me just as much as Ron."

"Because where you go, Ron goes," Ginny pointed out, twirling her quill between her fingers. "And honestly, you can be just as annoying as Ron, so, again, I can't blame her."

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm annoying?"

Rolling her eyes heavenward in a mocking expression, she heaved a false sigh and pressed a hand to her breast. "Very much so…no one understands how I can put up with you and your irritating behaviour. You are just _so _needy and whiny, it's almost as though you couldn't live without me."

"I can't live without you?" He was shifting on the couch, curling up, ready to pounce.

"It's almost as though you can't stand being away from me; you are practically glued to my side!"

"Well, then, I suppose I ought to be right beside you," he grinned, leaping off of the couch to move swiftly over to her, squeezing his body in beside hers on the couch. She let out a loud squeal, trying in vain to push him off.

They wrestled for a few minutes over who got the majority of the chair, with Harry winning when he plopped Ginny on his lap in a rather unceremonious fashion, earning several looks from nearby students, ranging from glares to jealousy or contentment. Once Ginny gave him a rather thorough kiss, followed by a rather severe talking to, she reopened her book, snuggling on his lap, and resumed her paper.

Harry sighed softly, pleased that at least things were normal between him and Ginny, enjoying this quiet moment amidst the chaos that consumed the school. Soon enough, night would end, morning would come, and with its illuminating rays, the chaos would resume again.

For now…he sat back and enjoyed his moment of peace, taking pleasure in the little things until the larger, more unnecessary subjects became the focus of his life once more.

* * *

Draco paced the Head's Common Room, debating whether or not he should chase after Hermione or leave her be. She deserved this moment of quiet thought, he knew that much; he needed one just as much as her, but he didn't want to risk her running into someone and causing more trouble than necessary.

Who was doing the rounds tonight? He couldn't remember for the life of him; the last meeting, he had been too preoccupied with trying to get a glance up Hermione's skirt to pay any attention. This, he realized now, had been futile given that he had not been low enough to see and it only resulted in his worrying now that she was out galivanting and prowling the castle after curfew, with Merlin-knows-who doing the rounds.

Muttering to himself, he threw his body back on the couch, rubbing his face in exhaustion. He was tired of this…tired of all of the fighting, tired of breaking up the fights…just tired. Damn it all, barely two weeks in and already, he was ready to give up and tell the whole world the truth just to shut their yapping mouths. But he knew what it would do to Hermione…sometimes, he wanted to forget that, sometimes he literally did – for example, what had occurred mere moments ago – and it only caused more pain.

He wished that life were simpler; that people could be more trusting, kinder, and less keen on getting the newest gossip and passing on the recent tales. He wished that the damn students could focus on school work, open their minds, and be a bit more accepting of people. He was a changed man; he wasn't the same snivelling snit he had been years ago. He had grown, he had aged, time had ensured that, and he was getting tired of listening to the incessant insults that were only relatively truthful a few years back.

He was tired…and he knew that Hermione was just as exhausted, if not more. He, at least, had a few friends who he could confide in, people who were open, who were able to accept things and not prejudice or insult. Their minds were not closed due to past rivalries.

He supposed it meant all the more than he support her in her decisions, he sighed. She was fighting the same battle and they went nowhere fighting with each other. They had to stand strong, had to unite – even though it sounded silly in his mind – and help each other out, supporting one another instead of denying and defying.

Looking at the fire, watching as the flames crackled merrily on the hearth, he couldn't help but remember the time she had caused the damn fire to be blue for a good week, give or take a few days. It had annoyed the hell out of him, but hell…her little quirks, the way she fought back, it was endearing and he wouldn't like her without those.

Hermione was Hermione…she had her own plans, she followed her own rules – as well as those of the school and Ministry, give or take a few exceptions – and she damn well knew how to kiss and fight. If she knew that this was the right thing, keeping it hidden from Potter and Weasel then, hell, he shouldn't fight her on it. He knew just as well as her that it was right; Potter would hex him and Weasel would detonate on the spot.

Getting to his feet, he wiped his hands on his pants, smoothing the slacks as he dried his palms, and moved towards the door, sliding his feet into a pair of shoes. He knew that she hadn't gone far; she would stay within the school, probably close enough to the Tower so that, if anyone came chasing, she would be able to make a quick exit and avoid confrontation.

He would find her…he would apologize for being a right git, and he would tell her that she was right. He hated admitting it, hated it with a bloody passion, but it made sense to tell the truth. She _was_ right. She _did_ make sense.

It still didn't mean he liked it…but, he had no choice. Making amends was the best thing to do, especially since he loved the hell out of that girl, and it would make living far easier so that they didn't spend their time dancing around each other.

Slipping out of the Tower, he looked left and right before making his choice on the direction she would have chosen, following her invisible footsteps.

* * *

"Ron…"

The red-haired man crossed his arms as he stared at Hermione, looking her up and down, eyeing the legs bared by the open robe and shortened skirt, looking over her appreciatively.

"R…Ron?" she stammered, feeling more naked than ever under his scrutinizing, criticizing gaze. She felt his eyes roving over her body and she tugged the robe shut, feeling cold and bare before the man. She wished that a crowd of students would bustle by so that she could sneak into the group and slip away, but in the shadows of night, in the barren halls void of life, she could not hide.

"You've been avoiding me."

She didn't like the tone of his voice; it scared and annoyed her at the same time. A combination of accusation and chastising that made her want to reply with heavy sarcasm. Of course, she couldn't do that now; McGonagall was nearby, she would hear the commotion if Ron started getting out of hand, but Hermione was not in the mood to listen to Ron's condemning shouts.

She wanted to tell him to sod off and have a good night before making her way back to the Tower. Honestly; it was two corridors away, so close, and yet, with Ron standing before her, it felt terrifyingly far.

"I've been busy," she replied curtly, crossing her arms under her breasts, effectively tugging the robe further shut with the movement. "I have a lot of homework to do right now."

"You don't visit me anymore."

She noted his use of _me_, as opposed to _us_ or _Harry and I_, something that irked her even more. She wasn't required to visit him, it wasn't mandatory, and she was allowed to have her own life. It wasn't as though her life revolved solely around him.

"As I said; I've been very busy. I want to get my homework finished before the tests start, and I have a lot of Head duties, as well," she explained, wishing that she could tell him that she didn't have to explain anything to him. But, as she reminded herself, it would only cause a ruckus, which would signal McGonagall and would cause the two of them to get in trouble. She really didn't want to get stuck in detention with Ron for even one week.

"I've missed you; it feels like it's been forever since we last saw each other." He took a step forward; wand-tip alit, reminding her that, while his education was not as advanced as hers, he was still rather adept at duelling.

Taking an uncertain step back, grateful that it led her in the direction of the Tower, she retained her strong stance, shoulders stiff, back straight and eyes unwavering. "We saw each other over the holidays."

"That was three weeks ago."

That annoying, whining lilt to his voice jarred her nerves and made her want to smack him. Instead, she heaved a sigh and tightened the grip of her arms around her chest. "Ron, we don't need to see each other every day. You see me in class, anyway, so, technically, we saw each other just a few hours ago."

"But it's not the same. In class, we can't be together…and we have to listen to those _atrocious_ rumours," he added, eyes glowing in wand-light. "Those aren't true, are they? Those disgusting stories about how you snogged Malfoy…because…if they were true…"

She watched as his hand began to quaver as rage slowly surfaced, his admiration and lust for her slipping, twisting and forming into the jealous rage she had seen too often of late. It disturbed her, irked her, and made her wish that she could kill whoever had started the bloody rumour. Even though it was, in part, the truth.

"They're not true," she blurted out quickly, trying her hardest to ease his anger before it burst forth. "Whatever you hear, don't listen to it; just a bunch of idiots trying to stir things up."

He took another step forward and she took one back, adjusting her stance, sliding her hands to her hips so it would be easier to slide her hand into her pocket and retrieve her wand without drawing his attention. She didn't want it to come down to that, but with his rather peculiar nature of late, she didn't know what to expect.

"Hermione…" He took one more step and her hand inched into her pocket; "are you telling me the truth? Because…if I find out that the sick bastard has been forcing himself on you…I'll fucking kill him." His voice rose, hackles rising as his mouth contorted into an unattractive grimace of rage. He spat out the last words, teeth snapping, reminding her of a dog on the attack.

Her fingers twined around her wand and she took a deep breath, willing her body to calm, easing herself into that dead, quiet calm place she had always gone before performing any attack on an individual. In the war, she had learnt how to do it quickly, with a quick breath or two, and she found her place where no emotion could touch her, where nothing could affect her actions.

Survival…it was the only thing in her mind right now. Defend and survive…it was, after all, a world of the survival of the fittest.

"Ron," she tried using her placating voice, removing any sarcasm from her words, becoming more matronly, "they are just rumours. Lies that the students spread to make life seem a bit more interesting, nothing more, nothing less. Just lies. I would never snog Draco Malfoy."

"Really?"

He was like a mood ring or a chameleon of sorts, constantly changing his colours and emotions at the snap of her fingers. One minute, hackles were raised and aggression made his face red and the next, he paled and his voice held this hopeful lilt that sent frissons of uncertainty and disgust down her spine.

Another exhalation of breath was followed by her answer, one of the biggest lies she had ever told; "Yes. He and I…we may get along, but we're nothing but acquaintances who talk about school work." Swallowing her pride along with her intelligence, she took a step forward and, using all of her matronly wiles, she cupped his face with her hands. "Don't worry Ron, there is _nothing_ going on between Draco and I."

His eyes slowly shuttered, heavy lids lowering as he looked down at her through his pale lashes. He swallowed thickly, hands clenching involuntarily at her sides. This was it…this was perfect…she was right in front of him, practically begging for him to kiss her.

He would do it, he told himself, ignoring his rapid heartbeat, he would lower his mouth and conquer hers, show her that Malfoy was nothing but a useless git.

Hermione, all the while, was kicking herself in the back of the head for her idiotic actions. What in the world gave her the stupid courage to stand up and cup his face? She wanted to _avoid_ contact with him, not touch him. He disgusted her, she despised his guts right now, and yet, she was trying to placate him, just because he was, no matter what, one of her best friends.

What in the world was wrong with her? In love with the man she swore to hate, avoiding her friends, realizing that they were nothing but prats and yet still defending and caring about them.

Her brain was not functioning properly…but it was working well enough that she took several steps back, drawing her hands away and wiping them on her robe, as though afraid that the infectious disease of Ron's volatile nature might be spread to her.

"Hermione…why did you move away?"

Staring up at him from her relatively safe distance, she shrugged her shoulders. "I wanted to calm you down," she explained, "you were getting too worked up. Once I saw you were calm enough, I moved away."

He chuckled and it disturbed her more than anything he had done or said so far. "Predictable, intelligent Hermione, always trying to explain everything. Why don't you just _feel_ for once? Ignore the science; forget trying to get the facts, and just _feel_?"

Draco had said words like that once, but they had made her feel far happier than she felt right now.

"I don't understand, Ron," she admitted, slipping her wand into the sleeve of her robe, crossing her arms to hide any indication that it was in her grasp.

"Don't play games, Hermione," he said, voice lowering with threat. "Don't act like you don't know what you just did."

She did know…she had just been the biggest idiot she had ever known and was now suffering the consequences.

"I wanted to calm you down, Ron, you were getting too worked up, I just…"

"Don't lie to me," he snapped, hackles back up, on the offense once more. "You came to me, you were practically begging to be snogged, and you fucking back off. You're such a tease."

"Oh, get real," she retorted sharply, more annoyed than anything now. "Ron, it's late, we're both tired; I'm going back to the Tower before I do something I regret."

"Like what," he said as she slowly turned her back to him. "Snog me? I know you won't regret it; you'll love it, Hermione, because we were made for each other."

She spun around, ready to give it to him, when a drawling voice rose and the words died on her lips. "Weasel, what the hell is wrong with you? Have you been reading some sick Muggle romance novels or something?"

Hermione wanted to jump into his arms; she was never gladder to see Draco standing a few feet behind her, looking pleasantly dishevelled with his shirt one quarter unbuttoned, tie loose, and hair mussed.

"What are you doing here?" Ron snapped, turning his attention to the blond.

Draco shrugged and decided to go with the age old lie. "I was shagging this delicious little Ravenclaw senseless in a nearby classroom and was on my way back when I heard shouting. Of course, it is too good to find a certain red-headed git pointing his wand at the Head Girl. I say twenty points from Gryffindor for threatening a fellow student."

"I was not threatening her," Ron shouted back, waving his wand around erratically. "She was being a fucking tease."

Draco sent her a pointed stare and she knew that he would grill her later on what Ron would consider to be teasing. "Miss Granger, were you 'teasing' this red-headed Weasel?"

Hermione wanted to snort at the tone he used and instead tapped her foot impatiently on the ground. "No, I was not, I was merely on my way back from the Tower after having conversed with Professor McGonagall on student matters when I bumped into Ronald."

This time a blond brow arched at the mention of the Headmistress and he wondered curiously whether she had really met up with the woman in question or this was just an excuse to be out of bed at this hour without earning any repercussions; not that Ron seemed to be considering anything but killing someone at this moment. However, in the case that the red-headed prat had any sensibility or any form of intelligence within his brain, Draco knew that Hermione might not take the chance.

It also did not go unnoticed that Hermione did not use the Weasel's nickname, which perked Draco's ears and made him want to smile with smug joy. She really didn't like that dunderhead very much anymore, did she?

"Well, then," Draco said calmly, reaching out to tug Hermione back, "I suppose that we must be heading back to the Tower, don't want to get into any trouble now, do we?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione jerked her arm from his grasp, even though the feel of his hands on her body made her blood boil with lust. "Let go of me, Malfoy," she retorted, "I can walk myself back to the Tower." She turned and nodded to Ron, who seemed rather flabbergasted and unable to speak for the past few minutes. Either it was the shock that Draco would touch Hermione, or that he just could not find any excuse to keep them there any longer. "Good night, Ronald."

Draco couldn't help it; when Hermione had her back turned and was rounding the corner, he flashed a smirk in the redhead's direction, saluted him, and spun around, leaving Ron to stand alone in the hallway, feeling an overwhelming mix of anger and hope. He stood there for some time, hand now at his side, debating over what had just occurred and what it meant, until finally sleep became a necessity and dragged his body to bed, only to be plagued by nightmares of Hermione and Draco kissing.

The next morning, when daylight only increased his headache, he swore to find out the truth once and for all; she had dodged him, had teased him, and then had had the gall to back off and just leave, like that, once Draco arrived. There was something fishy, and he intended to get to the bottom of it.

* * *

**There we go.**

**I wanna write more, but I know that if I do, I won't be able to stop and, to be honest, I'll save the rest for a later chapter.**

**Now, firstly, I know that some of you are thinking "WTF? McGonagall gave Hermione advice? Holy crap, how did this happen?!!?!?!"**

**My explanation: Hermione is a top student, and has probably spent the most time with McGonagall on various projects and so forth, so they most likely have a relationship similar to the one Harry had had with Dumbledore. Besides, while McGonagall is a very severe woman, she does have a kind heart and I think that, if called for, she would be willing to give advice, even on matters of love. **

**Any issues with it, go ahead and say them, I don't expect everyone to go "OMG, I LOVED how McGonagall helped Hermione," but please refrain from using insults, thanks. Which means: no flames or…Draco will burn down your house with said flames.**

**Major LOLzzzzzz, right? **

**Okay, no.**

**Now, onto quick apologies. I've been very busy with school work and have not been able to spend as much time writing as I wanted to, add on the fact that I also work every day I'm not at school, and I also have soccer, so I've been very, very, very busy. So I'm sorry for the delay. **

**Another sad note: on Monday, I will be sending in my laptop to get it repaired. Apparently it no longer readers my adapter, meaning that my battery will not charge. Yes, I called tech support, we tried various things, and my father even took a look, but, alas, I must send it to get it fixed. That will take roughly 9 – 11 business days. So I will not be able to write for some time and must spend the next few days backing every single damn thing on my laptop.**

**So yeah, this is something that I cannot control and I am sorry in advance for those wishing for a quick update. I feel that it just won't be possible.**

**Finally, recipe time!**

**I was looking up various chocolate recipes, because Valentine's Day is a couple weeks away, and found this chocolate recipe involving Chow Mein noodles. I think it would be nice, since the Chinese New Year is quickly approaching, and apparently this got really good reviews.**

**So, here it is:**

**Chocolate Chow Mein Clusters**

**Ingredients**

½ cup of semisweet chocolate chips

½ cup butterscotch chips

½ cup Chow Mein noodles

½ cup salted peanuts

In a microwave or heavy saucepan (I suggest you use a metal bowl over a pot that has some slightly boiling water in it), melt the chocolate and butterscotch chips; stir until smooth. Stir in Chow Mein noodles and peanuts until well coated. Drop by rounded tablespoonfuls onto a waxed paper-lined baking sheet. (My own corrections: drop a tablespoonful onto a wax-paper lined baking sheet, sounds a bit…easier to read, doesn't it?) Refrigerates for 2 hours or until set.

Preparation time: 15 minutes

Serving: 8

Variations/suggestions: many people doubled the recipe, and there have been mentions that it is a bit rich. Some reviewers used roasted instead of salted peanuts, whereas others suggested that you chop the nuts (and mix with walnuts or cashews is desired) in order to minimize the salty flavour of the peanuts. Another reviewer suggested that you spread the entire mixture onto the sheet and break it into bark.

Here is the site from which I got the recipe:

**Take care everyone!!!**


	9. Never Say Never

**Chapter 9**

**Never Say Never**

"That is exactly the reason you should _not_ be walking around alone at night!"

Hermione heaved loudly and yanked off her robe, hanging it on the back of a chair. "Honestly, Draco, I don't need you telling me what I should or shouldn't do." She spun around to face him, irritation lining her face. "And what exactly is this supposed reason, anyway? That Ron is a delusional prat who can't hex anything if he tried?"

"Hermione, you didn't see the look in his eyes. Hell, even if you did, I highly doubt you would have understood the meaning or intent behind them," Draco snapped, toeing off his shoes, letting them land unceremoniously in a heap on the mat.

"And what 'meaning' did you see in them, oh great and wise Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione asked, tugging her wand out of the robe to place it on the table.

"He was ready and willing to force himself on you," Draco cried, hands up in the air. "I…I don't know what I would've done if he had hurt you." His voice lowered, hands shaking as he swallowed thickly, trying his hardest to find some calm within his raging body. When he had shown up on the scene, had heard Ron's words, saw the look in the man's eyes, he wondered what would've happened if Hermione had not had her wand on her and he had not shown up. While Hermione was a little hellion, a strong woman, Ron was still stronger from years of Quidditch. He could have, although not too easily, overpowered her and done whatever he wanted to do to her.

Breathing heavily, Hermione closed her eyes for a brief moment, willing the annoyance to ease down. She understood what Draco meant, knew that he cared deeply about her, but, hell, it was so damn annoying to have him popping up and saving her whenever she didn't need saving.

"Draco," she said softly, turning to face him, "I understand that you care, but…I would _never_ let Ron do anything to hurt me. I carry my wand with me at all times and I am not some weak girl who needs to be constantly protected," she added, moving over to him. "I can protect myself; I don't need you showing up every two seconds to save the day." Her voice was firmer now, less soothing and more confident and powerful. "I am a powerful witch, I know that, I'm reminded of it every day, and I will not let Ron hurt me. Trust me on that, Draco."

He ran his hands through his hair, wanting to fight back, wanting to argue, but, in the time that he had gotten to know her, he knew that fighting back would be like banging his head against a brick wall; he would achieve nothing except for giving himself a headache. "I want to say that I am fine with you wandering on your own, I would like to pretend that I can just sit back and twiddle my thumbs and pretend that I don't worry, but I can't. Fuck, Hermione, that bloke's going mental! Don't you see it? I know that's he's always been a bit off, but, hell, something isn't right with him and I don't trust _him_." He moved over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders, massaging her with his fingers. "I do trust you, I know that you are an incredibly talented and powerful witch, but Hermione, I can't just sit back and do nothing. If he hurt you…if he did _anything_ to you…fuck, I'd kill him without any hesitation."

Hermione couldn't help it; she smiled, in spite of her annoyance, in spite of everything that seemed to be going down the drain, the slight, overly female part of her took joy in the fact that Draco cared so much about her and that he understood her. He wasn't going to be like Harry, who would demand that someone watch over her 24/7, he wouldn't be like Ron, who would be breathing down her neck every second. It was nice, but at the same time, she couldn't help but feel that he was going to find a way to watch over her.

It was that niggling sensation that had her frowning in a moment, arching a brow up at him. "You're being awfully understanding," she pointed out.

Rolling his eyes, Draco threw his hands into the air. "Fuck, Hermione, if you were as suspicious about Ron as you are about my actions, then, hell I wouldn't have to worry."

"What is there to worry about?" she returned, irritation swelling up once more. "I can take care of myself."

"So you've said how many times?" he retorted, moving away to pace. "Hermione, I refuse to let you go wandering around at night alone anymore. You will change your patrol schedule so that you are always paired with someone, Weasel will _never_ be paired to patrol with anyone but me, so I can keep an eye on the prat, and you must let me know where you are going whenever you leave."

"You're not my father!" she snapped. "I am a good witch, I know more spells that you do, and I sure as hell can cast them at least ten times better than you or anyone else in this bloody school! I do _not_ need your protection, and I refuse to let you rule my life just because Ron got a tad out of control just now!"

"A tad out of control? Hermione, did you not hear what I just said? The bloke was ready to do anything he could to get you!" Draco cried, spinning around, gesturing violently with his hands.

"Define 'get me', Draco, because that can mean anything," Hermione responded with equal passion, hands on her hips, hair wild, as though electrified from the intensity of their fight.

"Get you! Grab you! Force himself on you! Fuck!" He dug his hands into his hair, spiking it wildly around his face, making a right mess of it. "He was ready to rape you, Hermione! He called you a tease and I don't even want to _know_ what you stupidly did in order to get that fucking idea in his head. Obviously, you don't know what you should or shouldn't do! He wanted to fucking _rape_ you!"

"You're wrong."

He blinked slowly, hearing her cold voice, watching as her stare hardened to ice. "What? What? Are you that fucking blind?"

"You're wrong," she reiterated. "Ron would never do anything like that. Yes, he's a bit emotionally unstable and seems to be a bit…attached…to me, but he'll get over it. He would never try to…_rape_ me." She spat out the word, speaking it as though it left a foul taste in her mouth.

Rubbing his face, Draco groaned loudly. "You are so bloody naïve. You survive a war, you help fight people who raped and killed for fun, and yet you refuse to accept that even one of your friends would be willing to do the same shit that Death Eaters did because they've gone mental."

"I refuse to admit it because it isn't true!" she cried, tears stinging her eyes, hurting at the thought that Draco would accuse her friend of such a thing. Yes, it was true, Ron was a prat, and he would never accept their relationship, but, in the end, he was still her friend and she had known him for enough time to know that he would never do such a thing. Draco was just being a possessive arse.

"You didn't see the look in his eyes," Draco replied, voice softer now, pain lacing through his voice as he saw the hurt in her eyes. "Hermione…I understand that he's your friend, although I don't know what you see in him, and it must be hard to accept but…"

"Ron would never do such a thing, you bloody jealous arse!" Hermione shouted. "You're just trying to find stupid excuses to keep a tab on me. You're mental if you think I'm going to believe you, fucking mental!"

"Hermione, I thought the same about some of my friends!" he cried back, lifting an arm, gesticulating erratically. "And you know what, they did the same shit! I thought that they were nice and good-natured; I thought Crabbe was just another idiot who tried to be cool but had good intentions, and look at what he did! You didn't have to watch him rape those girls! You didn't have to sit there and realize that people are capable of doing it! You friends, people you chose to love, to care about! People who seemed to actually give a damn! And fuck, Hermione, I refuse to let you go through the same thing I did!" He dragged his fingers down his face, leaving ugly red marks on his cheeks. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if Ron did that to you, and I don't care whether you believe me or not."

She swallowed rapidly, blinking quickly as a multitude of information flew into her mind. Draco was accusing Ron of wanting to rape her. Crabbe. He used to be just a dolt…sort of like a Slytherin, Pure-blooded version of Ron, and yet he…Draco watched. "You watched?"

He spun away from her now, veins sticking out in his arms, they were clenched so tight, and he made his way over to the fire, watching as the flames flashed and danced. Breathing deeply, he nodded sharply, closing his eyes to try and push back the threatening onslaught of memories. "I had no choice."

"You could've stopped him!"

"It was impossible!" he snapped, turning to send her a cold stare. Her breath literally left her chest at the sight of his eyes; they were dead, frozen, like frigid stone, and the only flicker of emotion in them was the swirling pain that danced cruelly in the firelight. "They all watched," he admitted after a heavy silence. "I…I refused to do it…told Voldemort that I…I refuse to waste my body on such useless girls…and so Crabbe did it. He made me watch."

The pain that overwhelmed nearly made her fall to her knees; just imagining what Draco had had to go through, just trying to picture how she would have dealt with it, made her head spin. Breathing heavily, she moved forward to lean on the couch as he turned back to watch the fire, gripping tightly on the back for support.

No wonder…no wonder he wanted to watch over her. No wonder the man had so many trust issues…had so few friends now. No wonder he reacted like that…he understood…She hated to admit it, hated to say to herself that she _had_ seen the look in Ron's eyes, but now, as Draco cut open a scar for her and bleed his past all over her, she had to admit that she had seen it and she had been scared. She hadn't wanted to admit it, had never wanted to believe that Ron could have been capable of such things, that he had just been angry, tired, and fed up…that it had been anything but that. She still wanted to refuse to believe it…but…

"People change."

She lifted her head to look at him, listening to his raspy voice.

"We don't always see it, Hermione," he continued, either uncaring whether she listened or not, or fully aware that he had her full attention. "But people change…either suddenly or over time. Crabbe's was over a period of time, but nobody saw it. Ron…I know he used to just be a prat, an idiot who, and I hate to say this, was a good person…but, he's changed, Hermione. Something happened to him over the war and he's not the same, but nobody's seeing it. Everyone refuses to see it just as I refused to see that Crabbe was changing." Inhaling deeply, he rubbed his face, the cheeks sore from his nails. "I was too late for Crabbe, but I refuse to watch the same thing happen all over again. I _refuse_ to let you be the victim, Hermione. Yes, you can take care of yourself, but, hell, I love you too much to just sit back and let you take care of everything on your own. I…I don't want you to end up like those girls."

She slid forward, moving slowly to the man she loved, to the man who irritated her beyond belief and yet, made her smile no matter what. To the man who ached and pained for her, who worried about her more than her parents and friends combined, and she slid her arms around the man, wrapped him into her embrace, physically telling him that, no matter what, she would be there with him. That, in spite of their differences, no matter how hard they fought, no matter how many insults were flung, she loved him.

"I can't promise that I won't go out alone," she whispered to him, pressing her face against his shoulder blade.

"Just promise me," he said softly, lifting his hands to keep her arms in place, twining his fingers with hers, "just promise me that you won't be alone with him. That's how Crabbe…just don't be alone with him. Ever."

"I…" she sighed gently, rubbing her cheek against his back, "I won't be able to make a promise that I won't be alone with him because you never know what can happen; but I can promise that I will not let him do anything to me. He won't be able to lure me away, Draco, and I sure as hell will make him hurt before he hurts me. Remember, I'm not the kind of person who will let just anyone rule my life or tell me what to do."

"I know." He leaned back into her embrace, shutting his eyes against the pain of the past and the fear of the future. Images danced in his mind, memories of Crabbe and the girls, some of whom had barely hit puberty, and he felt his heart clench in agony. Slowly, however, the warmth of her embrace seeped into his back, slowly sinking into his body, latching onto him and warming him, soothing the pain that threatened to overwhelm.

It is this warmth that allowed him to open his eyes to the present; it pushed the memories away and shattered the worries. The warmth of her love, of her gentle caresses, that reminded him that she was there and would always be there.

"We just ended a war," she sighed after a moment, fingers clenching tightly onto his shirt. "I just finally felt free to walk without a wand in the castle, free to live without fear and now…"

He twisted in her arms, pulling her face against his chest, pressing his chin on her head, and he held her tightly. "I know, Hermione."

"I won't leave without my wand." She buried her face against his chest. "I'll be cautious like I was before, I…I don't want to have to live like that again, but I have no choice."

"If he touches you, if he hurts you at all, Hermione, I will kill him without hesitation," Draco reminded her.

"I know."

They stood there for some time, trying to fight away the fears of reality, secretly praying for the strength to deal with this new obstacle, all the while clinging onto each other for the support they desperately needed. In the dim light, they helped each other push away their fears, they fought against the pain, the terror, the unknown, until, exhausted, they stepped away from each other only to come together again under the covers, embracing tightly until sleep forced their worries away and drew them into a realm of dreams.

* * *

The room was not as luxurious as their hotel, but it was her second home and she felt more than able to now deal with the minor plain features, including the lack of engraving on the posts of her bed or the faux-bear fur rug that covered the floor by her bed. But, since it was home, and she had become adjusted to these annoyances, she was able to still enjoy the room in spite of the inadequacies.

Lying back on the bed, Pansy stared up at the green curtains that hung up and around the four-poster bed, listening to Daphne grumble about how much work the teachers had already given them. Her mind, however, was not on Daphne's words but on a very recent and common internal debate.

Who controlled who? Did Hermione really find a way to manipulate Draco into falling in love with her, or was he manipulating her only to push her away heartlessly in the end like the Draco she knew? She wanted to believe in the latter, but it made little sense considering his recent actions. If he did, indeed, plan to establish a fake relationship and break the chit's heart, then he would not be denying the rumours.

Hermione…she hated to admit it, hated it with every fibre of her being, but that witch was bloody smart. Hell, probably more than smart enough to create love potions or spells that would make Draco fall helplessly in love with her. The girl wasn't pretty at all, at least according to Pansy, what with her frizzy hair and small bust, hell; she was plain, far plainer than half of the girls in Slytherin. So, what would Draco see in _her_ of all people?

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Pansy glanced briefly to Daphne, who had somehow materialized beside her bed, hands on hips. Narrowing her eyes, she glared once at the girl before returning her scowl to the drapery.

"Ah, no penny needed," the brunette said in mock revelation. "You seem to be thinking about a certain blond and his sudden relationship with a certain brunette who likes the colour red."

"Sod off," Pansy muttered, crossing her arms over her chest, which, she had to add, was bigger than Hermione's. "Stupid chit."

"Honestly, I don't know why you're so bloody cranky about all of this," Daphne sighed, shifting to sit on the end of the bed. "There is absolutely no proof of what you say, all we know is that Draco and her are acquaintances."

Pansy pushed back her dark hair, tucking the strands behind her ears as she sat up to lean against the headboard. "That's what she wants everyone to think, but in fact, she had used some sort of potion to make him love her."

"And how exactly do you plan on proving it?" Daphne pointed out, stretching out her legs. "Must I repeat myself? There is _no proof_ of what you claim."

"Not yet!" Pansy snapped, grabbing a throw pillow and hugging it to her body. "All we need to do is get him alone and then…"

"And then what? We start asking him if he's under some sort of spell? How do you plan on going about that? Just wave our wands around and start saying a bunch of spells and hope we get the right one, if he's even under a spell?"

Pansy shut her mouth, pausing mid-response to consider what she might say next. "Well, obviously he'd deny it either way, but we have to look at the way he answers."

"Yes, he'll either be extremely insulted or…"

"He'll be trying too hard to deny it!"

"Oh, in the name of Merlin…Pansy, do you realize how silly you sound?"

"If he tries too much, he's definitely under some sort of spell. And then, I must find a way to break it, even for a moment, to get the real Draco back. And he will be, because there's no way he would fall for such a plain chit," Pansy continued, not heeding a single word Daphne said.

"Athena, please grant us your wisdom," Daphne groaned, falling back on the bed to stare at the canopy. "How exactly do you plan on 'momentarily breaking' his so-called spell?"

"Like they do in plays and books," Pansy replied, "with a kiss!"

"A kiss? How the hell is a kiss going to break this so-called spell? You'll probably just end up pissing him off even more!"

"It will remind of our love! Of how much we cared about each other, about the golden days when we used to spend every moment together. It will snap him out of it long enough for him to beg us to free him and he will tell us exactly what she did. And then we will get her, we will find a way to break the spell and free him from her torture, and she will be expelled and…"

'_You are bloody mental, Pansy_,' Daphne groaned inwardly, rubbing her eyes, ignoring the way it smudged her mascara; they were going to bed soon anyway, so what was the point in keeping it tidy? '_About as fucking delusional as that Weasley kid.'_

"Pansy…" she began only to be cut off yet again.

"Look, Daphne…in the end, I don't care that he doesn't feel for me anymore. I wish he did, I wish we still loved each other, but it probably won't happen again," Pansy said in a moment of sanity. "However, I just cannot believe that he would choose Granger out of all of the girls in the world. There is just so much that doesn't make sense, that doesn't add up. Why her? Why not you? Why not Astoria? What about the other girls? What's so special about Granger? I'll tell you what's special; she can make one bloody strong love potion. That would be the only reason he'd fall in love with her because he would _never_ love her!"

Daphne wanted to grumble and fight back, she wanted to shout at the girl and remind her of just how delusional she was, but she knew that it would result in nothing but pissing off the dark-haired girl. She had to admit that, at first, Pansy sounded far more normal than usual, until she began spouting off that Hermione would use love potions to get Draco. Some of it just didn't make sense; Hermione and Draco had been enemies for years. Why would she want to use a love potion on him? She understood that they had become closer over the past year, having done missions together and, the obvious, living together since September, but she didn't think that Hermione would suddenly fall so madly in love that she felt the need to use a love potion.

"Granger is smarter than that," Daphne pointed out, although her voice was suddenly overpowered by Pansy's, who began spouting off how Hermione's intellect would give her and advantage and how they needed to find a way to free Draco from his spell. Lying back on the bed, she stared at the canopy and wondered if anyone would be able to help her sort Pansy out.

The door swung open, and she thought that her prayers had been answered until her little sister walked in followed by her friend Maryse Felborne. Astoria, she knew, would quickly follow Pansy's train of thought and begin spouting off the same delusional thoughts, while she and Maryse would exchange worried glances or looks of exasperation. It was difficult to determine whether or not Pansy and her sister posed a real threat, or what they said was nothing but nonsense.

True to their nature, Pansy turned on Astoria and began asking for her assistance in her good-natured attempt to save Draco from the clutches of the evil Hermione Granger, while Maryse sidled over to Daphne to sit on the bed beside her, hugging her knees to her body.

"They really are quite the pair, aren't they?" Maryse said softly, taking in Daphne's annoyed expression that told stories of a thousand words.

"Don't get me started," she grumbled, swinging into a sitting position. "Honestly," she sighed as Astoria let out a shriek and began rambling about something she had seen in the halls a week ago, "I don't understand how they manage to focus on school work at all."

"Astoria is being tutored."

Daphne gave Maryse a look of horror before letting out a noise of irritation before falling back on the bed. "Mum and dad are going to be pissed."

"I have to be there when you break them the news," Maryse replied with a mischievous chuckle. "It will be hilarious."

"I think I'm going to trek the Amazonian Jungle for the next century or so; I'll be able to get away from all of his balderdash and stupidity."

"Stupidity? You think that this is stupid?"

"They heard you," Maryse whispered, unable to hide another laugh.

"Sod off," Daphne muttered, sitting back up to stare at the livid looking duo; her sister and Pansy. Honestly, she had no clue where or when Astoria had gone through such a drastic character change. Beforehand, she used to be very nice and quiet, albeit a little to prim and proper and it resulted in her being labelled a tad snobbish, but she had not been as…exuberant and unintelligible before now.

"Daphne!" she heard her sister cry; she had closed her eyes against the horror that lay before her. "How could you? How could you think that this is any form of stupidity at all? We are trying to save Draco from that chit's clutches and you…you think that this is stupid?"

Rubbing her face, Daphne muttered an incomprehensible curse under her breath before looking at her younger sister. "Look," she began, knowing that she had to be cautious in her wording, lest the wrath of Pansy and Astoria be unleashed upon her. "I think it's a bit silly to be acting this way when you don't know all of the facts."

"That's why we are going to get the facts!" Astoria replied, slamming her fist into the palm of her other hand for emphasis.

"But," Daphne pointed out, "you are jumping ahead of yourselves. I know that you don't like Granger and it's rather odd that she suddenly became so chummy with Draco, but you don't have any proof that she did anything. Get the proof before you start jumping to conclusions because right know you two sound very silly."

Astoria paused, mouth partially open, retort having died on her lips, and she simply stared at Daphne as she attempted to find a strong answer that might help her cause. It was Pansy who responded, in her usual shrill and over-exaggerative manner.

"Then help us get the proof! We will show you! We know that Granger has brainwashed Draco! We know that the stupid witch is smart enough to make a powerful mind-controlling potion!" Daphne didn't even bother correcting Pansy's oxymoron. "Help us and we'll show you! Then you can take back what you said." She spread her legs and pointed at Maryse and Daphne, eyes alit with the fire of passion and rage. "If you don't help us, you won't be considered Slytherins and…and…you'll have to send erotic valentines to Finch-Fletchley, Longbottom, Potter, and…and…Slughorn!"

"You have got to be kidding me," Daphne choked out, watching as Maryse turned a rather putrid shade of green. She swore she tasted a touch of vomit in her mouth at the thought of Slughorn receiving an erotic valentine.

"You have no choice!"

"I give up," Maryse said, "I just…I give up. Fine…we'll help…just don't make us send…_those_."

Daphne swore that if Pansy could cackle evilly, she would have at that moment. It was at this point in time, as she fell back on the bed to stare at the rippling green canopy, she thought it might have been a better choice to send Slughorn an erotic valentine.

* * *

The first month came to a swift and rapid end at Hogwarts. Students slowly integrated back into their scholarly lives and the rumours of New Year's began to die down heavily as rumours of Valentine's Day grew. What would happen this year? Who would be whose Valentine? Would there be a dance? A couples gathering? So many questions were posed and none of them had a single answer.

Students debated over whether or not there would be some kind of Valentine King and Queen, if there was a dance, and couples began to show off more public displays of affection in order to establish their places as favourite couples. Hermione and Draco were growing increasingly grateful with this new change, quite content that, at least, the rumours about their personal lives were coming to an end. Students could snog in the hallways as much as they wanted, argue about who was the better couple, and discuss passionately about Valentine's Day celebrations, just as long as Hermione and Draco were no longer celebrities in the gossip world.

As Heads, however, with the approach of Valentine's Day came the discussion of what to do about it. Hermione, fortunately, was able to use this as yet another excuse to avoid Ron at all costs and give Harry brief responses to his otherwise personal and in-depth-response-requiring questions. Draco, however, had taken to sneaking a touch more through the corridors, always afraid that one star-struck Slytherin girl or another might decide to jump him and beg to be his Valentine. He may have been labelled as a Death Eater, but not one girl forgot, come Valentine's Day, that he was one of the hottest men at Hogwarts.

What the girls did not know, however, was that he was no longer eligible, and this resulted already in a few tears when he had to, kindly, turn down some requests.

With Valentine's Day two weeks away, Hermione and Draco had finally settled on establishing a meeting with Headmistress McGonagall concerning activities. Unfortunately, this meant that all Prefects were obliged to join in the brainstorming session and that included Ron, as well as Daphne Greengrass, who had recently replaced Pansy as Slytherin Prefect.

Draco never had anything against Daphne; the girl had always been kind and a lot less…strong in demonstrating her ideals than the others. But she was passionately defensive about her family, particularly her younger sister. This worried Draco because he was quite certain that her sister was harbouring some kind of feelings for him…or was very passionate about getting Draco and Pansy together. Either way, it terrified him and he was rather unnerved at the thought of being stuck with the task of dealing with a Greengrass. At least the Slytherin male Prefect was Blaise…he felt a lot safer with him around.

To make a long story short, we now find Draco and Hermione sitting comfortably at the head table of the small meeting room, watching as the Prefects file in and take their seats. Luna managed to grab a seat behind Blaise and Hermione couldn't help but smile as the way they calmly greeted each other. It was a pleasant sight to see other Houses engaging in Inter-House Unity. Her partner, Terry Boot, took his seat beside her with only a few faint signs of disgust on his face at the idea of being 'stuck' behind Slytherins.

When Ron entered the room, Draco instinctively wanted to reach out and grasp Hermione's hand as she turned her gaze away from the redhead, but he had to settle for clenching his pants, wishing he could march over and slam his fist into the smug freckle-faced bastard.

"Now," Hermione began once everyone was seated, "I assume that most of you know why we're all here today."

"Valentine's Day!" piped up the sixth year Hufflepuff Prefect, Seanacy Wilkes.

"Yes," she continued calmly. "Valentine's Day is two weeks away and we decided that it is time to bring up the suggestions made at the beginning of the year for ways to make this holiday lively and celebratory." She waved her wand at a nearby chalkboard and the white chalk whizzed frantically over the surface, quickly yet neatly writing down a short list. "It is easy to assume that we will not be able to have a ball, since we were forced to choose between a Halloween Masquerade and a Valentine's Dance. Does anyone have any new ideas or anything they might wish to add to an already existing idea?"

"What about Cupids?" asked Ernie Macmillan, the other Hufflepuff Prefect, earning many glares from the seventh year Prefects.

Draco rubbed his nose at the memory of those damn Cupids from…what year again? Wasn't it First? Those little buggers that flew around and read out loud your bloody Valentine…hell, the idea of them gave him a rather powerful headache that not many memories could create.

"No."

Hermione was quite pleased that Draco had said it and not her; at least Ernie's glare was directed to him.

"I'm afraid not, Ernie," she said. "Are there any other ideas?" she continued, looking around expectantly at the Prefects.

The meeting lasted longer than it was initially supposed to; after Ernie had broken the ice, and had been turned down, more of the Prefects came up with various ideas on how to celebrate Valentine's Day, from raffle prizes of romantic giveaways, to an extravagant event that would be completed with the crowning of Hogwarts' 'Royal Couple.' Hermione was torn between yelling at some of the silly ideas and nodding appreciatively and hugging those who actually put some thought into their words before speaking them. Draco, on the other hand, was far blunter than her, ready to tell a student just how obviously stupid the idea was within the first few seconds of its life.

Needless to say, while this meeting, like most other Prefects' meetings, would conclude with her nursing a throbbing head, it was one of the few that actually resolved an issue before its end and she was quite pleased with the results. She was even more pleased when Ginny, Gryffindor's female Prefect, nearly dragged Ron away when he seemed rather adamant on staying and glaring at Hermione for the rest of eternity.

She would most definitely be sending her friend a rather large box of chocolates.

By the next day, flyers were up and word spread throughout Hogwarts about the upcoming Valentine's Day events; kiosks would be set up in the Great Hall on the 13th, which happened to fall on a Friday, and students would be able to write out their Valentine's in privacy, and they would be passed onto the Prefect in charge of said kiosk, who, due to charms, would be unable to see the author. As Hermione had pointed out, this would ensure that all students received kind Valentines as opposed to cruel ones. Students would be given the option to sign or not, and those who signed would be using an ink that was charmed to only become visible once Valentine's Day ended.

Students were rather excited over this idea, quite pleased that no singing, dancing Cupids would be barging into their classrooms to sing rather embarrassing poems to them in the middle of Potions or Ancient Runes. However, the excitement increased when the students, particularly the older ones, noticed that they would also have a Hogsmeade trip and that the Three Broomsticks would be having special 'Couples' Lunches,' for the students.

Hermione couldn't help but beam at the handiwork of the group, quite pleased with the reaction of the student body and just how helpful the Prefects would be. That is, if someone excluded the begrudging Ron, but, at this particular point in time, they barely registered on her radar. She was too excited over the upcoming holiday and far too busy with all of her duties to be concerned about Ron.

This, she thought one day in the middle of writing an essay for Astronomy, might actually be the first time she'd actually enjoy a Valentine's Day.

* * *

"I should send her a Valentine asking me to meet me somewhere; then she'd have no choice but to stay a listen."

"You heard what the rules stated; students are not permitted to ask for fellow students to meet at a specified location."

"That's to avoid fights and embarrassing situations," Ron pointed out, gesturing with his knight as he stared at Harry from across the chessboard. "This is different."

"Yes, it is," Harry agreed after sending his rook to obliterate Ron's bishop; he had to admit, Ron growing a little more…'concerned' about Hermione was causing him to make very amateur mistakes in their chess games, which resulted in Harry nearly winning one the previous week. "This will result in pissing Hermione off and you getting your balls hexed off."

"Why would she get angry about meeting me in secret?" Ron asked, rather innocently oblivious to Hermione's true reactions to his actions. Harry was finding it odder and odder with each passing day to what Ron flit between hatred and pure, raw love and devotion for the female part of their trio. He debated heavily whether or not something really _was_ wrong with Ron and just what it might be; this seemed a bit much for just a passing crush.

"Well," Harry began, wincing as Ron decimated one of his knights, "firstly, you'd be breaking the rules that _she_ set in place. That would probably insult her. And, lately, you seem to have had the worst luck at saying the wrong things at the wrong moments. Like last week in Potions, when, instead of complimenting her, you only succeeded in insulting her by insinuating that she could never live without a man like you."

Ron sighed, rubbing his face. "But it's true," he replied rather wistfully yet passionately, a strange combination. "She _can't_ live without me. Have you ever heard of two soul mates being able to live apart from each other? It's unthinkable and would probably result in our death."

Harry snorted loudly, causing Ginny, who had been sitting just out of earshot of their conversation, to look over the edge of her Quidditch book and send a questioning look to Harry, who had not seen it. "Have you been reading Gin's vampire romance novels?"

"No!" Ron replied sharply, ordering his pawn to move in reaction to Harry's earlier move. "What I mean is that she will be so lonely without me, if we part ways, if we are never given the chance to…love each other, we will never be able to find someone else to fill the hole; she will never be able love anyone but me."

Harry rolled his eyes and shut his ears to Ron's lengthy answer, knowing the damn thing by heart. Ron would babble on for a while, sounding very much like a corny romance novel, before ending with slamming his fist on a nearby solid surface and stating loudly that he and Hermione were made for each other. So, while he ignored Ron, he focused on the game in order to make his move and then let his mind drift to other subjects, the main one of which was Hermione.

He felt rather bad; they had not been able to have a decent conservation since returning to Hogwarts, particularly since Ron demanded on spending every moment with Harry in case Hermione showed up to talk to the Boy-Who-Lived. This caused Hermione to avoid Harry like the plague, which he knew was something she did not particularly enjoy.

There was also this nagging feeling that erupted at the base of his neck every time he glanced towards Hermione and Draco whenever they were together for school work or Heads' duties. It pestered him, told him that, perhaps, Hermione had not been telling Harry everything when he had appeared that day over Christmas break. That there was something more, something she kept hidden.

_BANG!_

"Hermione and I are made for each other!!!"

Harry jumped, unprepared for the rather loud sound of Ron's fist slamming against the chessboard – which resulted in all of the pieces tumbling and fall off of the board – and his even louder voice that shouted the overused words.

Sighing softly, beginning to gather the pieces and set up for a new round, Harry couldn't help but feel that this information Hermione was keeping behind would be the spark that might start the fire. The only problem was; he wasn't sure whether it would be a healing or damaging flame.

* * *

**Hey guys.**

**Sorry for taking so darn long to update. As you all know, I had adapter issues and have fixed things with Dell and am currently waiting on a new adapter.**

**Also, while I have been on "reading week" (pre-spring Spring Break), I have been spending my week off working, with my fiancé, and playing The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time on N64. **

**So, mainly because Ocarina of Time is made of 100% win, I have not been spending much time at my computer. Actually, I had not even touched my computer from last Saturday up until this Wednesday. Rather sad, isn't it?**

**Well, this chapter is done, and I have a lot of plans for future chapters and will never abandon this story. I thank you all for being so darn patient with me and I am sorry it has taken me so long to finish this one. I'll let you all know, the week before my week off, I had an exam in Modern History on the Tuesday, exam of History in China on the Wednesday from 8:30pm – 11:30pm, and then an essay due for a conference group of Modern History on the Thursday morning.**

**So I had a busy pre-break week and I just took the first half to relax and not die. **

**I will spend this weekend working on the next chapter and will try to have it up by Monday/Tuesday, but not promises, just in case things don't go as planned. **

**Also, while I'm not particularly talented with computer stuffs, I was wondering if people might want to make banners, do doodles or anything, for any of my fics. I know that I'm not some uber famous author, but it's always nice and it might help get my name out there and get a bigger fanbase. **

**So, if you're interesting in making videos, drawings, banners, etc, let me know. I really do want to expand my fanbase, but, I will always keep you guys, especially those who have stuck with me from the beginning, close to my heart.**

**Thank you guys. **

**RECIPE TIME!!!!!!!! (cue dancing Dumbledore puppet from Potter Puppet Pals)**

**Dark and White Chocolate Igloos**

**Source: canadianliving(dot)com - go into food, and it's under Best Chocolate recipes or something. (Thanks for reminding me dail-of-the-air about the link-thing. I meant to change it but completely forgot!)  
**

**Ingredients:**

1 ½ tsp unflavoured gelatin 1 5oz bittersweet chocolate, very finely chopped*

1 vanilla bean 8 egg yolks ½ cup granulated sugar

2 ½ cups whipping cream 2 tbsp coffee liqueur

1 5oz white chocolate, very finely chopped*

**Preparation:**

In small glass measure, stir gelatin with 2 tbsp (25 mL) water. Place bittersweet chocolate in large heatproof bowl. Set aside.

Slit vanilla bean lengthwise in half; scrape out seeds and place seeds in separate large heatproof bowl. Whisk in egg yolks and sugar. Set over saucepan with about 2 inches (5 cm) simmering water; whisk until thick enough to thickly coat spoon, about 5 minutes.

Measure 1/2 cup (125 mL) of the cream into small glass liquid measuring cup; microwave on high until bubbles form around edge, about 1 minute. Whisk into egg mixture.

Remove bowl of egg mixture from saucepan and saucepan from heat; set saucepan aside. Pour half of the egg mixture over bittersweet chocolate. Add liqueur; whisk until smooth. Refrigerate until slightly chilled and firm enough to mound on spoon, about 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, add white chocolate to remaining hot egg mixture, whisking until chocolate is melted. Set measuring cup holding softened gelatin into hot water remaining in saucepan; let heat until gelatin dissolves and clarifies, about 3 minutes. Whisk into white chocolate mixture. (If either chocolate does not completely melt by the time it is cool, rewarm over hot water, whisking until smooth.) Refrigerate until cool and thickened to consistency of raw egg whites.

Whip remaining cream. Fold one-quarter each into each chocolate mixture; fold in remaining cream.

Divide white chocolate mixture among twelve 3-inch (125 mL) ramekins; place on rimmed baking sheet. Top with bittersweet chocolate mixture. Cover lightly and freeze until set, about 2 hours.

Additional Information

Tip: For mini igloos, you can extend the number of servings to 24. Little and rich make a good festive combination.

***- Concerning the * beside the chocolate amounts, I was unsure as to whether or not there was just an added space and it's actually 15oz of white chocolate/bittersweet chocolate or not. This is why I set up the link, so that you may determine it for yourself.**

**If anyone uses this recipe, let us all know in your review, please, that way we, myself and the readers, may know whether or not this recipe is truly worth attempting. **

**Also, have fun finding a vanilla bean! **

**Enjoy the recipe and thank you for reading! Now please review!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (even though I'm a horrible person and take over 9,000 years to update….HAHA! over 9,000…HAHAhahaha…okay…I'll stop.)**


	10. Free Fall

**Hey everyone.**

**I know my last chapter was super crazy amazing or anything, but, let's really start getting the ball rolling here, eh? **

**I also know that Valentine's Day was a couple weeks ago, but then again, this fic takes place in 2009, so…this particular Valentine's Day took place a year ago, haha.**

**Anyway, let's get started, eh?**

**Chapter 10**

**Free Fall**

It was rather easy to say that Valentine's Day began very much like a storm; slowly creeping forward, the excitement levels growing progressively more electric as the days moved forward, and the air thickened with apprehension as rumours buzzed about, curiosity wresting the attention of the students from work to social lives once more.

Hermione and Draco found that free time was growing sparse; much of their time was devoted to class work, Heads' duties, and setting things up for the upcoming Valentine Card kiosks. They had to establish the networks, the way they would be sent out, who would be beside who, and all of the minor details that seemed minor until they are finally paid attention to.

By the time Friday evening rolled around, the students were nearly jumping with excitement, squirming in their seats, whispering and shouting out the various rumours that were currently being rapidly spread across the population like the plague. Every student became infected with the curiosity, save for a few immune to the disease, and many were asking similar questions, debating loudly over who loved who and other romantic nonsense Hermione found to be rather irritating to listen to.

In a flurry of red, the kiosks were set up, the ten stalls side by side, panels encasing each kiosk so that the user would not be able to see the person on either side. Red ribbons adorned the walls and stalls, the parchment coloured a pale pink, the dark red ink ready to be scrawled and spread across the parchment. Prefects and Heads in place, Hermione put Harry in charge of organizing the students, which didn't work out very well considering many rushed into the wall without hesitation. The sound of their feet on the ground was like a heavy rainfall, their booming voices like crashing thunder, and the electricity of excitement sizzled in the air.

The storm had come.

And Hermione sat back and received each parchment, listening to Harry order the students about, knowing that, once some of the excitement had died away, the respect for their war hero would push them to behave and pay attention. Respect was always one of the main reasons students obeyed their instructors or Heads.

Stationed between Luna and Draco, Hermione sat back comfortably and accepted letter after letter, letting out a few frustrated sounds when some students obviously tried to disobey the rules, tossing them into the 'garbage' bin on her right.

"Honestly, some people just don't know how to write love letters," Draco sighed halfway through the night, tossing one of them into the 'sending' bin on his left. "The bugger compared the girl's hair to hay and her eyes to tree bark."

Hermione chuckled softly, sorting through the letters. "At least he didn't say 'mud,' like someone did earlier on," she replied, tossing another 'meet me at said-location at said hour' letters. "You would think more students would pay attention to the rules," she sighed.

"Most teenagers don't listen to the rules," Draco pointed out. He suddenly wrinkled his nose in disgust and nudged Hermione's shoulder. "I have one for you. Would you like to read it?"

Her eyes glowed with curiosity for only a moment before she slowly shook her head. "I'll read them all tomorrow and burn them," she replied.

"Burn them? Don't tell me you don't like Valentine's cards!" Draco gasped in mock shock. Well…it was partially mock shock; some of it was real. He had never heard of a single woman burning Valentine's cards or gifts unless they were insulting or from a stalker. "I thought Valentine's Day was a woman's favourite day."

"Hermione doesn't like it," Luna said in her lilting singsong voice from beside Hermione. "She never has."

"It's pointless," Hermione added, sorting through another little packet of letters. "You buy overpriced gifts that go down over 50% in price the next day, and the presents hardly last a week. What's the point in giving roses if they're going to die? Chocolates…honestly, I don't really need a day designated for chocolate-giving. And hell, half of the cards are so unbelievably corny that they are obviously written with very little true intentions. Valentine's day is over commercialized and a waste of time, if you ask me."

"It's all about love," Luna replied softly, not waiting for Draco to answer. "You give gifts to the person you love, it's a day about love, spending it with the person you care about."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione tossed several letters into the garbage bin. "I don't need one special day to let the person I love know how I feel; I'd rather spend every day like that. I understand anniversaries, I understand the celebration that two people have been together for a certain length of time, but Valentine's Day just seems so bogus."

"Then why did you go through all of this work?" Draco asked, arching a brow at her.

"Because if I didn't," she answered, turning to send him a smile, "the student body would probably lynch me, with Parvati and Lavender leading the mob."

"That's probably very true," Draco chuckled. Glancing quickly around, he suddenly leaned close so that she would be the only one to hear his words. "So, I suppose it means we won't do anything special?"

She had to admit; she hadn't really paid immediate attention to his words; the second he had leaned against her, the feel of his hot breath on her ear, sending frissons of passion sliding down her spine. His autumn scent filled her nose, making her feel like falling back into a pile of leaves with his body pressed against hers.

It was a given that a paper cut from the parchment was the thing that tugged her out of her lulled state of mind and caused a lovely muttered string of curses to flow from between her lips.

"That is the sexiest thing I've ever heard," Draco said sarcastically, watching as she shoved her finger into her mouth to stem the blood flow. Secretly, he wanted to tug her finger into his mouth and suck on it until that bloody sexy half-lidded expression slid over her face once more.

"Bugger off," she muttered, tossing the foul piece of parchment into the bin on her left.

Shifting back to his seat, he refrained from rolling his eyes and focused on the task at hand. "So, again, I assume the answer to my question is a no?"

"I don't see the point," she sighed, sorting through more letters, oblivious to the way Luna subtly paid attention to their every word. "I don't need one single day out of the year to tell someone I care, I already told you that."

Shrugging his shoulders, Draco shook his head and continued sorting. He found it rather unheard of that a single woman would dislike Valentine's Day, that she would find it to be a useless day of the year. Then again, this was Hermione they were talking about. She was methodical, intelligent, blunt, and very critical. He should have known that she, of all of the female student body, would be the only to have some sort of dislike for this particular day. A part of him was proud, and yet another part, the aspect of his personality that had spent every last Valentine's Day wooing some girl or another, secretly wished she enjoyed at least a little bit of the holiday.

Luna, all the while, smiled to herself in contemplation.

* * *

Ron was far from pleased with being stationed between Terry and Ginny, who spent most of her time keeping him in line rather than paying attention to her task. He was unhappy with the sitting arrangement, disliked that he could not send Hermione a Valentine's card, and was infuriated that Hermione was sitting right beside Draco. It just wasn't fair. _He_ should be beside her, right next to her, sorting through the cards, laughing with her, reminding her of how much they were meant for each other.

Not stuck between his bratty little sister and the annoying Ravenclaw.

It wasn't fair.

Grumbling to himself, he tossed several letters into the bin on his left, wishing that he could be beside Hermione right now.

She'd been avoiding him again, he had realized the night before. She barely spoke to him after the fiasco in the hallway a few weeks ago. She avoided his gaze, would place Harry between them when grouped together in class, and was barely spending any time in the library anymore. Madame Pince told him that Hermione had begun taking out books instead of spending hours on end in the library, and that worried Ron.

If she was taking out the books, then she was studying elsewhere. But, she wasn't coming to the Gryffindor common room, and any Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff he spoke to said that they never saw her enter their common rooms once except for on Head duty.

That meant that she was hiding away in that bloody Head's Common Room, sneaking about with Draco behind closed doors. Oh, everyone else might seem to deny it, might say that there was no proof, but he saw it. He saw the way the little chit snuck around behind his back, hiding in the shadows to snog and shag that Slytherin bastard. He knew that Hermione clung to him in the dark, moaning like a wanton whore, and he knew that he would have to put a stop to it.

Hermione was meant for him and only him, not the blond ferret who was clearly using some kind of spell to keep Hermione infatuated with him. There was no other reason for her actions, no explanation for the way she constantly defended him or stood by him.

He would have to find a way to get her alone, he realized, tossing several letters aside. But, that had become the greatest challenge of late; she flitted through the hallways like a ghost, sliding through unnoticed passages, dancing in the shadows to avoid all contact with him and Harry. She avoided him as though he were a leper.

He would find a way, though. He _had_ to find a way to get her to see the light. He would somehow manage to get her alone, and then they could talk. That was it, talk, he would talk her into falling him love with him, he would remind her of how perfect they were for one another, and if talking led to something else, then who was he to deny?

Tomorrow night, he told himself. Tomorrow night she would be on duty, along with that Hufflepuff sixth year. He would sneak out and talk to her then; it would be the perfect finish to Valentine's Day.

* * *

It was easy to say that the Prefects and Heads had had a long night. They had spent most of their time sorting through the letters, and, once the last stragglers were ushered off to their dorms, they split into groups, some taking apart the kiosks and beginning the task of quickly and easily decorating the Great Hall, while the others burnt the rule-breaking letters and sent the others to the Owlery to be delivered the next morning at breakfast.

It was quite easy to say that all of the Prefects and Heads slept considerably later than usual the next morning – with the exception of Ron, of course – and that they looked more like ghosts than jovial students when they finally roused themselves and trudged down to the Great Hall. However, any and all exhaustion was quickly swept away by the excitement that filled the Hall. They had to say, they did a fine job the night before; ribbons clung to the walls, pink and red, intertwining pleasantly against the cool stone. Petals had been charmed to fall from the ceiling, rose petals of all colours, from pink to white, yellow to pale purple, fading just before hitting the heads of the tallest students. The candles had all be tainted to a soft shade of red, hovering between the petals, and the students gazed around the room in joy.

Hermione had to admit, she was quite pleased that there were no Cupids flying around, and she felt the relief in every student old enough to have experience the horror of the winged cherubs.

Separating from Draco, she made her way over to the Gryffindor table, listening as Ginny chattered loudly with another sixth year Gryffindor, remaining rather quiet and contemplative. She was tired and she just wanted to listen and not engage in the conversations. Besides, she had to consider certain things.

Of course, she, unfortunately, did not have enough time to think over anything because the mail suddenly swept through the Great Hall, letters upon letters dropping down to the students. Sitting back and watching, she smiled as she noticed that not one student was left out; everyone received letters, either from friends, family or loved ones, and there was not one unsmiling face left in the crowd.

This was the whole point, she thought to herself; let the students receive the anonymous letter, let them feel the joy of being complimented, of knowing that someone out there cared, and then let them feel horror the next day when they find out just who had sent which letter.

Squeals of joy erupted from nearly every girl in the hall, and she rubbed her temples, having only been half prepared for the sounds of excitement.

"Hermione, are you going to open yours?" Ginny prodded from beside the brunette, having already torn through half of her cards. Hermione was pretty sure that a good number of them were from Harry.

Looking down at the small packet in front of her, she was pleased and yet slightly envious that her stack was considerably smaller than Ginny's. But, she reminded herself as she opened the first card, it would be silly to feel envious.

"I suppose I should," she admitted, reading over the first letter, snorting rather loudly. "Obviously, this was sent from someone incredibly illiterate."

"What do you mean?"

Shoving the letter under Ginny's nose, the girl burst into laughter at the horrendous grammar, spelling, and bad comparisons of Hermione to the oddest of objects. It was flattering yet irritating to read. A few others were similar, although some were slightly better written than others.

Sliding out the last letter, having shoved most into her bag to be dealt with later, she broke the seal and unfolded the pages. Arching a brow, she read through the text:

_Hermione,_

_ I know that I haven't always been the best person. I know that I can be a real prat at times and that we've been through rough patches, but we've always come out together. I've known for as long as I can remember that we've belonged together, even thought I never really showed my feelings. _

_ I want you to know that I love, Hermione, and that we belong together. We are like two parts of a whole, two pieces that just fit, and I want to be with you. Please, Hermione, tell me you want to be with me, because I can't spend the rest of my life without you._

_ Meet me tonight, at eleven, on the seventh floor corridor by the main stairs, and we can sort things out. Please. I don't want to lose you._

Frowning at the text, she debated over whether or not it was just overly corny or true and from a sensitive source. Lifting her eyes, she looked over the Great Hall, wondering just who had the audacity to disobey school rules and which Prefect had neglected their duties long enough for this letter to go through. She wondered briefly if it had been from Draco, but she knew that he was aware about her feelings for Valentine's Day and that she was incredibly vigilant when it came to rules.

So, that just meant almost anyone in the remaining student population could be to blame for this letter.

Slipping it into her bag with the others, she debated over whether or not she would meet with the writer, just to dock off points and punish the student for disobeying the rules. Besides, it was impossible that it could have been from Ron; he wrote like a five-year-old and the script was far too well written, grammatically correct, with too nice of a handwriting for it to belong to the redhead.

She was on duty that night anyway…so who was to stop her from investigating the seventh floor and making sure that no students were hiding among the passages and alcoves? Certainly, it wasn't like she was seeking out the writer; she was simply performing her duties as Head girl.

Nodding to herself, she went back to enjoying the meal and dealing with the following chaos that was every Third year and up preparing for Hogsmeade.

* * *

Hermione Granger may dislike Valentine's Day and what it stood for, but Draco Malfoy basked in its glow. He nearly pranced around, enjoying every letter he received, his ego increasing tenfold with each carefully written text, every little poem and note that showed great admiration for the man.

While he used to receive more, he had to admit that recent happenings, including his involvement in the war and participating in the Gryffindor New Year's only helped instead of injured his reputation.

He felt strong and respected when he ordered the students about, enjoying the way they filed into lines and listened to his every word. He couldn't help but smile at a small gaggle of Third years who were giggling and blushing brightly at they gaped at him.

Quickly enough, every student with permission was moved to Hogsmeade and he was enjoying his day with Blaise, telling Hermione that he needed some man-to-man time with his friend, concluding that she didn't necessarily engage in the daily activities and would probably be too busy verifying that no student was breaking the rules.

Luna had promptly dragged the girl away and Draco couldn't help but fear for her safety.

"So, mate, what's on your mind?"

Looking over to his friend in the bookstore they were hiding in, Draco sighed and glanced back to the titles before him.

"I have no bloody clue what to do for Hermione today," he whispered back, praying that no prying ears were near. "She's doesn't like all of this crap. Then again, I'm not a huge fan of it too, but it's fun nonetheless."

Nodding slowly in understanding, Blaise flipped open a nearby magazine under the pretence of looking over the text.

"Luna loves Valentine's Day; although her view of it is a bit different; she started babbling about Snarkle horns or tails and Ingus snouts and something about Tierfly wings…to be honest, I'm just sticking to the usual chocolate box and a few well chosen words."

"Hermione's not even like that, she's more…" Draco paused, heard slowly turning until he faced his friend. Blinking once, twice, and then a third time, his mouth hung open, making him look like a rather stunned, pale fish. Suddenly, with a loud intake of breath, his eyes bugged, mouth fell wider and a strange gargling sound escaped his lips. "L…L…Luna…? Chocolates…? What the bloody hell are you talking about?" he shouted, dropping a rather heavy book on his foot, resulting in a loud string of curses.

"Shut your mouth," Blaise hissed, slapping his hand over his friend's mouth, apologizing to the owner of the shop when she hurried over at the sound of shouting. Once the woman was gone, Blaise turned to glare at his friend. "Bloody hell," he hissed, "don't you know the meaning of being quiet?"

"Donfft fyu fink fyu," Draco attempted, stopping mid sentence to dig his teeth into his friend's hand, resulting in a cry of pain from Blaise as he released his hand. "Fuck," Draco cursed, elbowing his friend in the stomach for good measure. "Don't you think you should've told me?"

"I didn't think it was that important," Blaise replied, blowing on his hand as though it might ease the pain. "Hell, you were too busy with your own stuff."

"But fuck," Draco muttered. "Hell…you and Loony Lovegood? I never saw that coming."

"I don't think anyone did," Blaise answered, now moving to rub his aching stomach. "Bloody hell, did you _have_ to elbow me in the stomach? Did you really find it necessary?'

"Yes, I did; you were trying to asphyxiate me," Draco responded sharply, bending over to pick up the damn, injury-causing book from the floor and thrust it unceremoniously onto a shelf.

"I was _not_," Blaise hissed back, digging his knuckles into Draco's left kidney in response. "In fact, you just tried to cause me internal damage."

"Oh sod off and explain. You plus Loony Lovegood equals eternal love…that just does not equate in my normal, sane mind."

"I thought that you had your own issue to deal with," the dark-haired boy said, moving them to a darker, further corner of the bookstore as a group of students walked into the store, talking loudly about looking on books of love, romance, and finding the perfect man. Draco was briefly tempted to stay and listen once his name popped up, but Blaise grabbed hold of his sleeve and kept dragging the boy.

"Look," Blaise once he had managed to find a secluded corner, "how about this? We figure out what to do with you and Hermione, and tomorrow I'll spend the entire afternoon telling you about Luna and me?'

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Draco swung his hips slightly, frowning at his friend, debating over whether or not his friend was trying to delay the inevitable.

"I suppose I have no choice," the blond grumbled, picking up a nearby book to examine the hardcover.

"So, Draco, tell me all of your life woes and I shall help you fix them," Blaise said with a rather silly grin, wrapping his arm over Draco's shoulders in a brotherly embrace.

Rolling his eyes, Draco nudged his friend in the ribs and, without waiting for the black-haired man to regain his breath, he began to explain his current situation.

* * *

"This was such a wonderful idea, Hermione," Luna's wistful, singsong voice filtered through the air, almost dancing. "Everyone looks so happy."

Hermione glanced to her friend from where she had been looking at a packet of moving, talking Sour Patch kids, and couldn't help but blush faintly at the compliment.

"Thank you, but it was thanks to everyone's collaboration that this took flight," she replied, moving back to stare the sour candies, wondering just who might be sadistic enough to eat talking, moving, miniature people. At least in the Muggle version it was just candy, it didn't move. "This is just disturbing."

"Ginny told me that when you showed George a whole bunch of the Muggle candies you have, he had to turn some into magical candies," Luna answered, moving over to Hermione.

"I always knew that George had a slightly twisted mind," Hermione said on a laugh, moving over to stare at numerous other sweets that had been purchased from the Weasleys Wizard Wheezes and set up for sale at Honeydukes.

"I wonder if Blaise might like lemon drops," Luna said softly, staring at said confection. "He does have a rather liking for lemon flavoured candies."

Staring at the blonde, Hermione frowned at the girl for a moment and curiously voiced her wonder over why Luna would be considering buying Blaise candy.

"Oh, well, you see, I didn't really think it was all that important, but we've been seeing each other for a little while."

Gawking at her friend, Hermione took one fateful step back, promptly slid on snow and landed harshly on her bottom, bringing down an entire shelf of Jelly Slugs, which escaped from their container and began slithering across the floor as well as Hermione.

Grumbling and cursing, with a quick wave of her wand, the candies were promptly cleaned, stored back into their containers, and, with the shelf magically put back in place, returned to their spot. After muttering several quick apologies to the owner, she promptly pulled Luna over to another, quieter spot of the shop.

"You and Blaise?" she choked out, keeping her voice down. "When the bloody hell did this happen?"

"Probably about October," Luna answered, looking over at a stack of Sugar Quills. "I think he might like Sugar Quills, he likes really sweet candies. That with lemon drops and I think he'll be quite happy."

Rubbing her face, Hermione groaned inwardly, wondering just when the world went topsy turvy. Probably the moment Voldemort had been vanquished and the entire population had learnt that Draco Malfoy had not only aided the Order, but had been detrimental to the snake-man's destruction.

Fortunately, Hermione, unlike Draco, did not necessarily dwell on the details of how they came to be. If she wanted to know, she would, but she could only assume that they somehow found common ground and had probably, through the strangest circumstances, begun seeing each other.

All that mattered to her was one very important thing.

"Are you happy?"

"Oh yes, very," the blonde answered, picking up several Sugar Quills. "To be honest, I never really much of Blaise except that he was very gorgeous. But…he is quite charming and," Luna let out a soft sigh, "he makes me happy. We love and respect each other, and that's the basis of a good relationship. Like you and Draco."

The blush promptly returned to her cheeks, but Hermione did not spend much time stemming the blood flow to her face for she was too busy smiling at the younger girl.

"Exactly."

Luna waltzed over to the lemon drops and picked up several packets, twirling her hips to some unheard music that always seemed to remain within the mind of Luna Lovegood. Hermione, at times, wished that she could have such a carefree, light attitude like her friend, but she knew that she would probably go mental after a short while.

"What are you and Draco doing for Valentine's Day?" the blonde asked as she went up to the counter to pay.

Shrugging her shoulders, Hermione poked at a Chocolate Frog packet. "He knows I don't really care for Valentine's Day and all of its shebang, so I'll assume that we are not doing anything special."

"Oh, but you should."

Hermione frowned at her friend, watching as the girl paid for her purchases and they walked out of the store – well, Luna seemed to always dance when walking, but they walked nonetheless. They walked some way down Hogsmeade's main road before Hermione asked her friend why.

"Well, isn't it obvious? It's a day for couples, isn't it? You two are a couple, so you should spend time together."

"But I already said that I don't need any special day," Hermione sighed, tying back her hair against the ruthless wind that ceaselessly caused innumerable knots in her tresses.

"Why not pretend that it's just like any other day?"

Stopping in her steps, one hand grasping her hair, Hermione stared after Luna. "What do you mean?"

Spinning around on the spot, bag tapping against her knee, Luna smiled knowingly at the brunette. "You said you don't need any special day, you find buying all of this merchandise silly, well, why don't you pretend that it's just a normal day? That way, you won't be giving into the Valentine's hubbub and you two can enjoy the day either way."

Gnawing on her lip, Hermione fidgeted with the hem of her jacket sleeves, debating quietly over Luna's words. She made sense; if they just pretended it was any other day, if they didn't give into the Valentine's Day requirements, then she could still spend quality time with Draco without feeling like she was giving into the over-commercialized holiday.

"I suppose it makes sense," she said after a moment, moving back to finish tying her hair.

"So, on this normal, plain, boring day, are you doing anything special with him?" Luna asked, leading the way to the Three Broomsticks.

Chuckling, Hermione hurried to catch up to her, wondering the exact same thing as her blonde friend.

* * *

Supper was filled with excited talk and chatter, the soup a shade of red, many of the buns and breads dyed pink or red for the holiday. The students had been behaved quite well throughout the day, Hermione had only been forced to punish a few who had tried to sneak into inn rooms, but, aside from it, she had enjoyed her day.

Now, however, at eleven o'clock felt a lot closer than before, she couldn't help but feel tension tightening her stomach. It made her feel somewhat nauseous and reluctant to eat, but the relaxing day managed to give her enough strength to feed herself. She couldn't help but think that if she hadn't enjoyed her day, if things had not turned out the way they had, she would probably be picking at her soup right now, reluctant to eat, talk or do anything remotely enjoyable.

Once supper was finished, she talked briefly with Ginny over the girl's plans to attack and seduce Harry that night, which resulted in Hermione laughing and trying her hardest to remove the foul images from her mind. By the time she reached the Head's dorm, she was feeling more relaxed than at supper and smiling once more. But the nagging sensation was still there, the feeling that things were not all right with the world was still at the back of her mind.

She couldn't place the feeling, couldn't place the anxiety or tension, wasn't exactly sure why she felt it, but it was there and it wouldn't leave, no matter how much she laughed, ate, relaxed or smiled. It was still there and still pestering her.

She found the living area to be empty and wondered curiously whether or not she had actually seen Draco leave at dinner. Then again, he assumed that they weren't doing anything special, so he was probably enjoying some man-to-man time with Blaise.

Trudging up to her room, she quickly changed into more comfortable clothes and made her way downstairs to collapse on the sofa with a good book and wait for ten o'clock when she would start her rounds.

About halfway through the first chapter, having reread the same page a good dozen times over, her thoughts having shifted back to the situation with the letter, she was rather startled when a head appeared beside her shoulder.

Letting out a loud shriek, she lifted the book in response, smacking the person in the face before falling off of the couch, fumbling for her wand on the coffee table. Heart hammering, the pointed her wand at the offender and was quite embarrassed to realized that the face belonged to Draco.

Who was currently stemming the blood flow from his nose and cursing rather colourfully under his breath.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry Draco!" she cried, leaping to her feet and rushing to the kitchen for some paper towels. "Bloody hell, I didn't know it was you!"

"I think I got that," he muttered, holding his nose tightly, "when you hit me with the bloody book."

Handing him the towel, she watched as he pressed it against his nose, and leant forward, examining the bridge.

"At least I didn't break it," she said, lifting her wand to press it gently against the slightly bruised flesh. Muttering a quiet incantation, the bruises faded rapidly and the blood flow quickly ceased. "I honestly had no clue that it was you."

"Who else has access to the Head's dorm?" he said with a grimace, scrunching up the paper towels and tossing them into the nearby garbage. "Bloody hell Hermione, sometimes you don't think straight."

"Well, hell, you bloody well scared me!" she huffed loudly, moving back to the sofa to pick up her book, quietly pleased that his blood had not gotten on the pages. "Next time let me know you're here before just shoving your face beside mine like that."

"I did," he said rather snappishly. "I called out your name three times and you just ignored me."

"It doesn't mean you have to scare me," she muttered, rubbing the corners of her eyes.

"I thought it might get your attention because obviously something else had it."

"Oh, bugger off," she mumbled, pocketing her wand.

Draco moved over to her, leaning over the couch as she sat back down on it, watching as she pulled back open her book and began the process of rereading the same page for the thirteenth time. "So, what exactly had you so…distracted that you didn't hear my sexy voice?"

Swallowing thickly, she felt her heart hammering in her chest as anxiety washed over her. She _should_ tell him about the letter, but, at the same time, she knew that he would do nothing short of overreact to the situation and demand that he go and investigate. She was torn between being honest and keeping it a secret for his sake. The man had enough on his plate as it is; he didn't need to know about a letter that was most definitely written by some idiot sixth or seventh year who wanted to pull a prank.

It wouldn't take long, she reminded herself. She would sneak up, immobilize them and remove points for being out of bed after hours and for disobeying the rules set up for Valentine's Day.

No need to worry Draco about it, she reasoned, nodding inwardly.

Then why didn't the nagging sensation go away?

"The book is fascinating," she replied calmly, sending a smirk his way, "far more fascinating than your supposed sexy voice."

"Oh, now I know you're lying about that," he said, moving around the couch to sit beside her. "I know that the sound of my voice makes you go crazy."

Turning the page, she let out a soft snort. "Only because it's so bloody irritating every time you open your mouth."

Leaning over, he resisted the urge to toss her book away and instead indulged her. He let her keep the book and pressed his lips on the little section of bare flesh behind her ear.

"How about we make a little bet?"

She fought back a wave of shivers at the feel of his tongue tracing her warming skin, trying her hardest to focus on the words of the book.

"You know I don't gamble."

He chuckled softly, the rumbling sound of his voice making her heart hammer wildly in her chest. His scent, the autumn rain, the spicy, male musk, clung to her, drifting into her body and soaking into her pores. It warmed her flesh and made her nerve endings burst into small flames of desire. She wanted to groan, but she didn't. She was resilient; she would hold back and stay true to her word.

"Wouldn't you say that being with me is like gambling?" he replied softly, letting his lips hover just over the shell of her ear.

"Yes, well, you're a risk I'm willing to take, aren't I?" she answered, tossing her book away to pull him into a heated kiss. Damn it all to hell, Draco was right; his voice was most definitely more interesting than _Hogwarts: A History_.

Soon enough, clothes were quickly discarded, tossed in random locations throughout the Common Room, and they rolled onto the floor with a loud thud, Hermione rising up above him like a siren in the waves. Her hair fell, cascading down her back in wild, untamed curls as she slid over and around him, taking him deep inside of her tight, wet heat, listening to his enticing voice as he murmured carnal desires to her.

His hands gripped her hips, nails digging into the flushed flesh as she rode him, gasping for air as she tightened around him, convulsing when the first wave hit and dragged her under.

"Fuck, Hermione," he hissed, sliding a hand up to cup a sweet breast, playing with the pink nub that he yearned to kiss and suckle.

"Draco," she breathed, twisting her hips harder, uncaring that her knees burned from the carpet. All that mattered was that he was deep inside of her, touching every part of her body, filling her in a way no one had ever been able to fill her. It wasn't just a physical fulfillment, but an emotional one. He touched every little part of her, inside and out, and completed her.

Sweat sluiced down their intertwining bodies, their movements growing more erratic as their words became slurred. Their hearts beat in the same wild rhythms, their scents mingling in the air, dancing and intertwining to create the heated, musky scent of sex that filled the air. Time and again she was pulled under each cresting wave, her cries growing wilder and higher, until he pulled her down in a heated kiss, where tongues battled for dominance and teeth tugged and pulled.

It was then that they rose to a crescendo, the wave pulled her and he followed quickly, holding on tightly as he filled her, groaning her name into her mouth as she whimpered loudly against his lips. They lay, fallen and exhausted, in each other's arms, allowing all of the day's worries and concern to be washed away by the waves of pleasure.

Some time later, as Hermione walked through the halls of Hogwarts, her mind was still slightly fuzzy from the aftermath of their love making. Her body still tingled and a part of her brain remained unusable because it was still caught up in the high. Even after rushing out of the Head's dorm, having fallen asleep in the blond's arms, did not pull her far enough down from her high.

Now she walked through the halls, silently admiring the arched corridors and stone structure, feeling more content than ever. She still smelt him on her, his scent covered her body, and she couldn't help but hug her torso and twirl on the spot in an uncharacteristically girlish fashion.

Damn it all to hell, damn the students who walked the corridors, damn them and their silly thoughts; she loved Draco Malfoy and, before the year was up, she would let them know.

It was ten to eleven when her brain finally returned to normal functioning and she found herself hurrying to the seventh floor corridor, having nearly forgotten about the meeting with the unknown student. She would have to make it quick; rounds were due to end by eleven thirty and she had promised Draco that they would sit together and reveal the authors of their Valentine Cards and laugh.

She was quite certain that Millicent Bulstrode had sent him one.

Huffing for air, she reached the top of the final flight of stairs to the seventh floor corridor at eleven on the dot. Pausing on the last landing before the final flight at the moving staircases, she took a moment to breathe and compose herself; she needed to be focused and attentive if she wanted to catch the student off guard and punish them. Panting for air like a runner after a marathon would only remove the façade.

Raising her wand, she brushed her hair out of her face and made her way up the stairs, ready to face whichever student had decided they had the right to disobey the rules. Her wand faintly illuminated the hall and she narrowed her eyes, trying to see through the shadows just which student decided to hide out and pull this little prank.

She was quite surprised, and feeling rather foolish, to see a certain red-haired, freckle faced man come out of the shadows.

"Ronald Weasley," she hissed, fingers tightening around her wand, "what are you doing out of bed after hours?"

The red head crossed his arms and gave her a hard look. "Isn't it obvious by the letter I sent you?" he huffed, almost as though he expected better from her.

Glaring at the redhead, she realized that she should had thought a little more through the situation; it would make sense that only a Prefect would have sent her the letter; it was the only way it would have gotten through the system and into the mail. Of course, she had been too blind to assume that Ron would have sent it; she didn't expect it, didn't think he would have the gall to do something like such, and the thought had never once crossed her mind.

Now, at the moment in time when she should feel an inkling of fear, she felt more infuriated that the Prefect had ignored the rules and made a fool of her intelligence; she should have known.

"Yes, well, I feel I must dock off points from Gryffindor because you are both out of bed and disobeyed the rules," she replied, keeping her wand raised. She had promised that she wouldn't stay alone with Ron, she had promised Draco that, no matter what, and she would not let herself get cornered. She had to remain vigilant and get this discussion finished as fast as possible.

"I don't care if you knock off points," Ron replied softly. "But please…just listen me out."

"Ronald, I've done a lot of listening recently, and honestly, I don't really care for much that you've been saying," she retorted sharply. She wanted this done and over with, couldn't he understand that?

His eyes glowed strangely in the faint shadows, an odd glimmer that she had only seen there a few other times. Need, yearning, desperation…they all shone in the aching blue eyes, along with something else, another thing she just could not pinpoint at the moment. But they ached, they pained her so much that it made her heart tug and she was reminded sharply of the Ron she used to know. The Ron who used to stand up for them, the one who would laugh and accept them, the one who would defend her and love her, the Ron who had lost so much.

"Hermione," he said quietly, almost begging, "please…just a minute. I just want to talk, I…I know I've been a git recently, and I haven't really been there a lot. I just…I want to explain, to apologize."

She wanted to cross her arms, to relax, but something told her not to let her guard down for any moment. If she needed an escape, she had the stairs right behind her and her wand at ready. Hopefully, it wouldn't come down to that, but, considering Ron's recent actions, she wasn't exactly certain what might happen.

Sighing, she blinked once before raising her gaze to meet Ron's. "I can only give you five minutes, Ron, but no more; I have duties to attend to. So…please, continue."

"I want to say I'm sorry, Hermione." He took a step forward and she involuntarily took one back. She wanted to keep her distance, no matter what. It pained her; it hurt to see the pain in her friend's eyes, but she had to admit she felt safer with the distance. "I…I haven't exactly been the nicest bloke lately and I feel like it's pushing you away. So, I'm sorry. I just…bloody hell, Hermione; I just can't get you out of my head. I know I didn't realize it back then, I was just some idiot who couldn't see past my own ego, but, hell, I see it now. I can't stop thinking about you, I can't…Hermione, I love you."

He took another step forward and she took another back, again…distance. Distance kept her safe…distance kept him safe.

"I should have realized it sooner, but I was a prat. I love you, Hermione, and I _know_ that we're made for each other. I just know it!" His voice rose with conviction, fist pumping the air at his side for emphasis. "You're just so beautiful, so nice, so bloody smart…I can't get out of my head. And your smell…bloody amazing…you smell so good," he ended on a groan, closing his eyes as though reliving a memory.

"Ron," she began gently, "I'm…I'm flattered that you feel this way." Another step. "But, I'm afraid that you've waited too long. Maybe…maybe it you had told me this a year or two ago, maybe I would try, but it's too late."

"It's not too late!" he shouted, fists clenching at his side as he took two steps forward, she two back.

They were on the landing now; safety lay just a couple steps behind her. She could run, could spin around and run away from the man who used to be her friend, but the compassion for him, the love, made her stay and listen to the tortured man argue.

"Hermione! I know…I know I've waited so long. Please, I love you…and I know you love me, you must. You _have_ to love me. We're meant to be together, I just know it. It's not too late; it'll never be too late. Please, Hermione, just try, just try being with me. You'll see, you'll realize it. We're supposed to be together!" he pleaded, eyes tearing up as she stepped further away from him. His heart was breaking, his lungs were aching, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms. He couldn't lose her…he'd lost so many people, so many loved ones…he couldn't lose her too.

Her heart was bleeding, she realized as tears formed in her eyes. Her heart bled for the pain her friend was suffering, and yet it beat painfully fast as panic began to slowly set in. How was she supposed to respond to this? Did he just expect her to jump into his arms and sob out that she loved him?

She didn't…she didn't love him, and it hurt him so much. It hurt her, it hurt to hurt the person that had been her best friend for seven years, to hurt the man she once loved. But it hurt even more to see the lost look in his eyes, to see that the Ron she used to know what slowly fading away.

"Ron…I'm sorry."

"Don't say that!" he shouted. "Don't fucking say that! Just say you love me! Say that you'll stay with me! We are soul mates, we're meant to be together! Don't you see it, Hermione? Open your eyes and see it!"

"My eyes are open Ron," she answered quietly, knowing that shouting would do no good no matter how much she wanted to. "And I'm sorry but I don't return the feelings." Swallowing thickly as he took several steps forward, closing in the distance between them, she took another step back, keeping her wand gripped tightly in her hand. "I'm sorry Ron, but…"

"Shut up! Shut up! Just…just…just fucking kiss me!" he cried, panic rising in his voice, laced with anger. His hands waved erratically and she shifted back. "Kiss me and you'll see! You'll see what I mean. You'll realize that we _are_ meant to be together!" He reached out, hands open to grasp onto her and pull her into a kiss.

She stepped back once more, intending to escape his grip, and her feet found not solid ground. Suddenly, she was falling and no one would be able to catch her.

* * *

**Cliffy!!**

**I've had the ending of this chapter in my mind for SO LONG!!! I'm so glad that I've finally been able to write it out. **

**Now, I know I brought up the issue of Blaise and Luna in this chapter, but it was more for a bit of fun filler that I thought might bring some minor comic relief or enjoyment to the chapter.**

**The smutty scene with Hermione and Draco was unintended but I liked it and went with it. **

**Now, what will happen to Hermione in the next chapter? Who knows? What will happen with Ron? **

**So many questions! So little time to write up the next chapter, but I will do my best!!!!! **

**I've also begun working on a darker fic (only to be posted when halfway done). Basically, it's a world where the war has gone on longer than expected and the world has been shattered, broken and darkened by death and war. **

**It will be a Dramione.**

**Anyway, here's today's recipe!**

**Key Lime Cake II, by "Kaye Frickhoeffer"**

Found on: allrecipes(dot)com (I used my iPhone app, which was free)

**Ingredients**

1 (18.25 ounce) package lemon cake mix 1 (3 ounce) package instant lemon pudding mix ¾ cup water ½ cup vegetable oil

4 eggs 5 tablespoons key lime juice

1 ½ cups confectioners' sugar 3 tablespoons key lime juice

**Directions**

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 celcius). Lightly grease one 9x13 inch cake pan or one 10" Bundt pan.

2. In a large bowl stir together: lemon cake mix, lemon instant pudding, water, oil, eggs and the 5 tablespoons of key lime juice, mixing well. Pour batter into prepared pan.

3. Bake for 45 minutes. Pour key lime glaze over cake while warm.

Glaze: mix together confectioner's sugar and the 3 tablespoons of key lime juice (or more if necessary) and spoon glaze over warm cake.

Some Changes:

One reviewer used a white cake mix instead of lemon, and 2 more tablespoons of key lime juice and 3 drops of green food colouring. It gave it more of a key lime taste.

Another added chopped pecans, and the glaze was: ½ stick butter, ½ cup sugar, ¼ cup fresh key lime juice boiled for 4-5 minutes and drizzled over cake.

Suggestion: definitely use glaze while cake is warm and let it sit for some time to let the glaze soak in, add flavour and make the cake moister.

**I hope that you all enjoyed the chapter and thank you for reading/reviewing. **

**Take care everyone!**


	11. Surrender

**Sorry it took me a little bit to get this up. I somehow injured my right wrist and it hurt like hell to type, and when I put on my bandage it was more cumbersome, making quick-typing rather difficult. But, I did my gosh darn best!!! **

**Thanks for all of your patience.**

**Chapter 11**

**Surrender**

She was falling.

Air rushed past her body, knotting her hair, wrapping around her form as she fell through the empty space. Things rushed past her, she wasn't sure what, wasn't truly aware of her surroundings are she tried to focus on exactly what was happening. All she knew was that not solid mass seemed to be keeping her up.

Her body somersaulted and her lips opened to let out a cry of pain as sharp, agonizing frissons swept from her left shoulder down to the very tips of her fingers. She swore, in the sound of the air and her cry, she heard the sound of her body thudding harshly against something very solid.

Twisting, she pushed through her hair, shoving it aside long enough to see. She truly was falling, she realized numbly, falling into empty, blank space, broken only by the shifting and moving stairs.

Blinking, suddenly, everything shifted into fast forward, the rate at which she fell increased and the pain in her shoulder grew tenfold. Something was broken, she thought dimly. However, no matter how many broken bones she had in her body, she wasn't going to fall to her death any time soon. Besides, she couldn't help but feel somewhat grateful for the pain in her shoulder; it had pulled her out of her numbed stupor and pushed her into that state of alert, awake realization that enabled her to finally take a look at her situation.

So, as Ron's screams of terror filled the air, she reached out with her wand and performed the first spell that came to mind, "_Aresto momentum_,", aiming the spell both at a nearing staircase and herself.

Her body slowed considerably, as did the staircase, and she managed to place her wand into her left hand and reach out with her right to grasp hold of the railing on the staircase. Pain slid through her body at the impact; she hadn't slowed down enough, but it was not enough for her to let go.

She wouldn't let go.

"HERMIONE!!!!!!!!!!"

He screamed as loud as he could, wishing that he could jump down after her. They should have paid attention, he realized as he let out another agonizing wail. They should have paid bloody attention to the staircase. They move, damn it, the fucking staircases move!! Hell, he should have realized…he should have been paying attention.

Falling to his knees, he moved to the edge of the landing, peering over and screaming after the falling woman.

Damn it, he should have…he shouldn't have…fuck it. Fuck it all to hell! Why did the bloody staircases have to move in the first place? Why couldn't they just stay in the same fucking place at all times? Was it really necessary?

Thoughts streamed through his head faster than the woman fell through the air, and yet, suddenly, she stopped. His nails dug into the stone floor, eyes wide and face pale as he saw her holding on for dear life onto a railing.

And he could do nothing to help her; she was a good four floors down, there was no way any spell he could cast would be able to reach her, and damn it, it's not like he had a fucking flight of stairs to use any time soon.

He should have paid more attention in school, should have worked harder on learning his spells, he groaned, lifting his hands to bury them into his hair. Then, maybe if he had worked harder on learning, he might be good enough to somehow levitate her to a safer position.

But he wasn't…he wasn't really good at anything.

Damn it, he cursed quietly, this wasn't the time for self-pity, he realized. This wasn't the time to hate himself; she was hanging there and he stood there, mentally chastising himself for not paying attention in class. That just wasn't right.

He had to try and get help; the Tower was on the seventh floor. Maybe, if he ran to the Gryffindor Tower and back, he could get Harry and they might be able to figure out a way to save her. Besides, Harry knew more about the secret passages and staircases in the school than he did. That would certainly give them a chance to get down to the fourth floor and pull her up.

"Harry, Harry," he mumbled, torn between getting his friend and watching in horror as his love held on for dear life. "I have to get Harry…but…but I don't want to leave. What if she falls? What if she can't hold on? God damn it!!" he cursed loudly, digging his nails into his scalp as his debated loudly over what to do.

"Ron!"

He blinked rapidly, wondering just where the voice was coming from.

"Ron!!"

Staring around, he wondered whether or not someone was down the hallway or on the nearby landing. When he saw no one, he blinked several more times. But…it couldn't be…she was too far away…

"Ronald bloody Weasley! You stupid prat! Look down!"

So it was Hermione.

Moving as close to the edge as he could, he saw that she had her wand pointed to her throat. So, that was how she was doing it.

"Get help!" she shouted, her voice bouncing off of the stone walls, creating a loud echo. "Go the Tower and get Harry and Ginny!"

"But I don't want to leave you!" he cried back, cupping his hands around his mouth as though it might increase the volume of his voice.

"What?"

"Bloody hell," he muttered, tugging out his wand and pointing it to his throat. "_Sonorus_," he muttered, before looking back over the ledge. "I don't want to leave you alone!"

He didn't see her roll her eyes, nor did he hear the heavy exhale she let out. '_Honestly,' _she thought, '_why does he never listen to me?'_

"Just go and get help, you prat! I can't hold on forever and you can use the Marauder's Map to get down here!" she snapped, gasping loudly as her fingers slipped.

He stood motionless on the landing, internally debating, wishing that he could have the courage to run off and get help. All he could do was stare and pray that she didn't let go, hope that she had enough strength in her arm to hold on tight.

They hadn't been able to fix things, he was thinking. They hadn't been able to fully repair their relationship. He had shouted again, had let his anger and frustration get the better of him, and now…now she was clinging for dear life and he couldn't do anything to save her.

He couldn't let her die. She was his soul mate; he wouldn't be able to live if she left him. He needed to know…needed to know that she loved him too. He wanted to stay with her, live wit her for the rest of his life. He wanted to have hoards of children and grandchildren with her.

She was his…she was meant to be with him. She was _not_ meant to die from falling down the bloody main staircases at Hogwarts.

"Fucking bloody fucking hell," he muttered loudly, pacing on the spot.

"Ronald Weasley, you go get help or I swear, I won't be able to hold on much longer!" she cried, digging her nails into the stone of the railing, as though they could penetrate the solid mass and help prevent her from falling.

"I don't want to leave you alone!! I don't..."

"OH MY GOD!"

Both eyes turned to the fifth floor landing, where the Hufflepuff Prefect, Seanacy, was gaping in shock at the sight before her.

"Seanacy! Great! Get your arse down here and help me up!" Hermione cried from her position, quite glad that the staircase had slowly made its way to attach itself onto the very landing Seanacy stood on. "Ron! Go get McGonagall! I'll be at the Hospital Wing!"

"What happened?" the Hufflepuff girl cried, rushing down the steps, slipping on several and landing hard on her bum a few below where Hermione hung for dear life.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, having removed the charm from her voice. She chanced a glance up and was quite pleased to see that Ron had finally disappeared.

"I should be asking you that same question," the girl replied, standing up to point her wand at Hermione. "_Wingardium Leviosa_."

With a swish and flick, Hermione was levitated into the air and gently placed onto the staircase. As soon as her body hit solid ground, she fell back with a shuddering breath and revelled in the feeling of cool stone against her skin. Damn heights, damn flying, damn it all…she had no clue how the hell those boys managed to enjoy Quidditch so much.

The panic she had been trying to abate slowly tried to seep back in and it took several more shaky breaths and gentle words from Seanacy to finally calm her down enough so that she could stand without her legs feeling like jelly. She had really come that close, she realized as she glanced over the ledge. So close…just a couple more stories and she would have most definitely died.

If she hadn't been thinking clearly, if she hadn't been hit…would she have realized early enough? Would she have been able to think clearly?

"Hermione?"

Drawing another trembling breath, she closed her eyes and pushed back her anxieties. She was fine, she was okay, she was in pain but it was felt great to feel pain. It meant that her heart was beating, her blood was flowing, and her nerves were in working order.

It meant that she was alive.

"Let's go to the Hospital Wing," Seanacy urged gently, pressing lightly onto Hermione's right shoulder.

When the brunette winced, the blonde girl let out an apologetic squeak. "I'm sorry! I didn't know! Are you okay? Where are you hurt?"

Slowly, they began their way up the stairs and towards the Hospital Wing.

"I'm fine," Hermione replied softly. "I'll be honest, both of my shoulders hurt quite a bit but…" she paused mid-step and turned to the young girl beside her. "Thank you."

Seanacy slowly blinked up at the older woman before she nodded. "I couldn't just let you hang there."

As they walked on in relative silence, Hermione was slowly acknowledging more and more the sharp, stabbing pain in her left shoulder. She felt her heart throbbing in that exact location and it slowly ebbed down her back and her arm. Gently, she took her wand out of that hand, which she feared to move, and slipped it into the pocket of her jeans. She fought against the instinct to grab her shoulder and cling onto it for dear life. She had to remember, she had dealt with worse pain. She had dealt with worse scenarios. The Cruciatus Curse was far harder to deal with than what she suspected was a broken shoulder.

But damn it, it still didn't mean that it _didn't_ hurt, and it hurt.

"What," she swallowed thickly, biting back a whine of pain. "What were you doing there? I thought you were supposed to finish up with the Greenhouses?"

"Oh, well, I found a couple of Ravenclaws out after curfew and I thought that it might be better to escort them back to their dorms instead of assuming that they would go straight back," Seanacy replied. "When I getting ready to head back, that's when I heard people shouting and, well, you know the rest."

"I suppose I'll have no choice but to be eternal grateful for how meticulous and rule abiding you are," Hermione chuckled. At least, it sounded vaguely like a chuckle, although it ended on a quiet moan of pain as the wracking of her chest jarred her shoulder in a way that intensified the agony.

"Hermione…are you really okay? I mean…you look really bad."

Gritting her teeth, she finally lifted her right hand to gently press against her shoulder. Letting out a hiss, she closed her eyes against the pain in her shoulder.

"I'll be okay," she mumbled. "Can…can you do me a favour?"

"I'll try."

"We're not far from the Hospital Wing, and I'm not about to pass out any time soon. Do you know where the Heads' dormitories are?" Hermione paused to let the girl answer, wishing she could lean on a wall for support. Her body felt drained, her mind emptied and she wanted nothing more than to take a good Pain and Sleeping Draught and just rest for several hours.

"Yes, they were part of our tour when we became Prefects."

Nodding, Hermione gave the girl a half-smile. "Good, can you go there and get Draco Malfoy, please? I think that the Head Boy should be allowed to know what's happened to his partner, don't you?"

_'Nice play_,' Hermione thought, quite pleased that it didn't sound so much as a lie. It was the truth; it was only fair that Draco find out what was happening instead of waiting until morning, when the rumour mill would be working ten times faster than usual. Besides, she wanted to see him…wanted to be held, to hold, to love and be loved…she hated to admit it, the strong woman within her hated it, but being so near to death, it made her realize things even more. It made her want to spend even more time with Draco, to let him know how she felt.

And she wanted him there when she spoke to Harry about several things.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

Someone really made a good decision in choosing Seanacy as Prefect.

"Yes. Please…go get him."

"O…okay. But how…"

"Tell the statue who you are and that you want to talk to him. The message will be relayed."

"Okay, I'll be quick," the girl breathed out before taking off at a run in the direction of the Heads' tower.

Just as soon as she was out of earshot, Hermione closed her eyes and let out a rather loud noise of pain that she had been holding in. It hurt so fucking much, she heaved. So much…but…she had to push herself. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how long she had been able to keep up the façade in front of the younger girl, she reminded herself that she had been through worse.

It's what kept her going, the mantra of internal strength that repeated in her mind that pushed her to keep walking towards the Hospital Wing.

(Change scenario)

She was sitting on the bed, being examined by Madame Pomfrey, when Harry barged into the Wing followed by a frantic Ginny and a rather irked McGonagall. Ron lagged behind, looking torn between guilt and relief when he saw Hermione seated on the bed.

"Hermione! Are you okay? What happened? Ron said you fell! Are you feeling alright? Where does it hurt?" Ginny cried loudly, sounding very reminiscent to the mother who raised her.

Harry seemed to materialize by her side, much to the annoyance of Madame Pomfrey, who felt that the girl needed as much space as possible. Unlike Ginny, however, he didn't babble and shout; he simply sent her a gentle smile and said softly, "I'm glad you're okay, Hermione."

Harry, like Hermione, had learnt quickly in the war that injuries were expected. They were part of the fight, a part of life, and that it was a waste of time to spend hours on end complaining about them or fussing like Mrs. Weasley. They quickly learnt that, in spite of the injuries, it was better that someone was alive and injured than dead. He had come to appreciate life, in spite of all of the scrapes and bumps that came with it.

The only thing nagging him was how this came about, but he would leave that conversation for when Hermione was alone. He could then discuss the situation and Ron, who he felt was doubtlessly involved in this.

"Gin," Harry said softly, pressing his hand on his girlfriend's shoulder, "let Madame Pomfrey do her work and we can ask Hermione as many questions as we want once she's done." He had seen the death glare Madame Pomfrey had sent the youngest Weasley and felt that it might be better to avoid confrontation than watch everyone blow up in a few seconds.

"Oh but…" Ginny began.

"It won't take long," the Mediwitch huffed; waving her wand over Hermione's left shoulder. "Broken shoulder and…" she moved to check Hermione's right, "pulled ligaments. Just a little spell, a potion for reconstructing the bones and a pain potion and she'll be okay. Now, I would appreciate it if you could give me space," she added, sending another glare to Ginny.

Ron paced by the beds near the back of the room, almost as though he was afraid to come near Hermione, as though he might hurt her unwillingly. Professor McGonagall stood nearby; watching silently as the Mediwitch began the process of healing Hermione's minor injuries, biting back every question on her tongue, knowing it would only irritate Poppy.

Hermione grit her teeth as she felt the ligaments reattaching themselves in her shoulder, taking slow deep breaths as the pulsating pain ebbed and flowed through her shoulder. She wouldn't cry out now and she wouldn't cry out when Madame Pomfrey healed her other shoulder.

'_Worse pain…you've felt worse pain than this,'_ she reminded herself.

Just as Madame Pomfrey began healing Hermione's left shoulder, the doors to the wing swung open with a loud bang and a certain blond-haired git came rushing into the room. He was oblivious to the others in the wing, running over to Hermione.

"Hermione! Are you okay? What the hell happened? Wilkes said you fell. How in the world did you fall down the bloody stairs?" he cried, stopping in front of Hermione as he began to examine her, much to Madame Pomfrey's annoyance.

"Draco," Hermione began, wincing as he accidentally brushed her healing shoulder.

"You're hurt. How did this happen? Did someone push you? If they did, I'll bloody kill them," he snapped, looking over her for more signs of injury. Finally, he stopped and cupped her face and heaved a soft sigh. "Fuck…I was so worried. I'm glad you're okay."

She couldn't help it; she blushed. A dark layer of rouge covered her cheeks as he brushed his thumbs on her cheeks, raw emotions exposed in his glittering grey eyes. Anxiety, pain, love, and fear. She knew that he had been close to panicking, had an inkling that he had sprinted the whole way here, and she couldn't help but feel grateful and embarrassed by just how much he cared.

"Draco, I'm…"

"Mr. Malfoy, if you wouldn't mind moving aside, I could continue healing Miss Granger," Madame Pomfrey snapped, nudging Draco out of the way so that she could continue with her work. "Honestly…you all panic and worry about someone getting hurt, and then you get in my way when I'm trying to do my job. Bloody nuisances, all of you."

Draco looked like he wanted to scoff in reply, but Hermione placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed gently. "I'll tell you everything once she's done, okay. Besides, I've been hurt worse," she reminded him.

Scrubbing his face with his hands, he nodded, standing aside to let Madame Pomfrey work, but never once leaving Hermione's side. He ignored the boring stares, watching as Madame Pomfrey healed Hermione. The young woman, however, was not able to ignore them as well. When her gaze lifted and met Harry's, she saw perplexity, hurt, and curiosity. His green eyes glittered with a knowledge that she had never seen before, some strange glow that made her feel like a child caught in the act.

Ginny, all the while, expressed open awe. Her mouth hung open, eyes wide with shock. She was blinking rapidly, as though she couldn't understand the sight before her eyes, rubbing them on and off, as though it might help her decipher the situation in front of her.

Ron…Ron was nowhere to be found. The door was still ajar and Hermione could only assume that he had left either upon Draco's arrival or after watching the display of obvious affection. This bothered her more than the looks Ginny and Harry were giving; if he had seen anything, had understood the implication, then furious would be an understatement of his emotions. Ron would be out for blood, if his earlier actions had told her anything.

This worried her more than anything, and she felt her heart leap with anxiety.

Damn Valentine's Day and its stupidity. If they hadn't done this whole bloody thing, then she wouldn't be stuck here, Madame Pomfrey prodding her with her wand, in pain, and unable to escape the situation without explaining her relationship to, at the very least, Harry and Ginny.

Bloody fucking hell.

She hissed when she felt the bones slowly begin to reconnect themselves, pressing together to heal and close the gaps. Draco's hand instinctively flung out and grasped her free one, clenching tightly around her.

"Can't you do something about the pain?" he snapped, glaring at Madame Pomfrey.

Hermione couldn't help it; in spite of the pain, she rolled her eyes at Draco's tone.

"I offered her a pain relieving draught, but she refused it," the Mediwitch snapped back, as though she expected the young man to already know the answer.

"Why?" This came from Harry, who was now sitting on the bed across from them, arms crossed.

Hermione winced again as Madame Pomfrey pressed against another crack on her shoulder. "The bloody things always mess with my brain," she answered. "I wanted to be in a right state of mind when I spoke to you."

"About what?" Harry's gaze shifted over to Draco, as though he expected the topic of conversation to be the blond.

"How this happened."

"And what exactly did happen, Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked up as Professor McGonagall spoke her first words since entering the Hospital Wing. The Professor's eyes held a faint curiosity that was only just overwhelmed by honest concern for her star pupil. She knew that the Professor and Headmistress was genuinely worried for her, understood that the woman would do anything in her power to see that things were rectified, and she was eternally grateful.

"Drink this first," Madame Pomfrey said, thrusting a cup into Hermione's free hand. At the young woman's glance, she huffed loudly. "It's to held reconstruct the bones; the pain relieving draught is on the bedside table, as you asked. Now drink up and I can go about doing other things."

Hermione was even more grateful that Madame Pomfrey was more understanding of the situation than she used to be. The woman had had difficulty adapting to the situations that came about in the war, particularly when people came back badly injured but ignored the pain the draughts in order to give coherent reports. She remembered one particular situation, after a rather nasty fight with a few Death Eaters. She had limped back to the Headquarters, wrist snapped, and body covered in scrapes, bruises and aching from having suffered at the expense of another Cruciatus Curse. Honestly, she didn't know why _she_ was the always the target of that bloody curse.

She remembered coming in, dragging Luna with her, Harry behind, and Madame Pomfrey had immediately began fussing over the threesome. She had had a good row with the Mediwitch when she had practically tried to force the pain relieving draught down their throats. That bloody stuff was worse than morphine, had been her argument. They wouldn't be able to discuss things properly and coherently. To prove her point, in spite of the pain, in spite of everything, she had been able to give a clear and concise report to other Order Members.

From that day onwards, Madame Pomfrey always respected her choice to not drink the pain relieving draught; she could only assume that the Mediwitch had gained a new sense of respect for her.

Now, as she drank the foul tasting bone healing potion, she felt even more grateful. Her mind wouldn't be fogged by the draught; she would be able to think clearly when she wanted to answer all of the questions in the eyes of the others.

The second Madame Pomfrey had stepped back into her office, ordering that Hermione remain in the Wing for the night and that she not wait too long to take the draught, Professor McGonagall stepped forward.

"So, Miss Granger, care to elaborate on precisely what happened?"

Nodding, Hermione adjusted her position on the bed, trying to get more comfortable in preparation for the pain she knew would soon follow the ingestion of the potion. \\At least, she reminded herself, it wasn't Skele-Grow. Harry had said that it was one of the worst pains he had ever felt.

\"I was doing my rounds, finishing up on the seventh floor," she began, watching as Professor McGonagall moved forward a few steps. "When I reached the seventh floor, I found Ronald. Apparently, he mixed up the schedules and thought that he was on duty tonight," she added with a strained laugh as the first little pulse of pain shot from her shoulder. "We exchanged a few words, I explained to him the error, and told him to hurry back to the Gryffindor tower before he got in trouble. I took a step back, intending to move back down the staircase while making sure Ronald went back to the Tower, when I discovered the staircase had moved."

She knew that she was lying, knew that half of the words out of her mouth were formed only to save her and Ron's hides. Ron would get in trouble for being out after hours, while she knew that Draco would, for lack of better words, blow up at the idea that she had willingly been alone with Ron for a period of time. Telling the truth would only cause more problems. For now, she would use this white lie and then explain the situation when she was alone with Harry.

"How did you stop yourself from falling?" the Professor asked.

"I used _Aresto momentum_," she replied honestly. "I slowly down a moving staircase and myself and managed to hold on."

"Which is why you injured the ligaments in your right arm," the Headmistress said with a nod. "And how did you injure your left shoulder?"

"It hit another moving staircase." Hermione rubbed said shoulder as more pain pulsed from it. Her heart was back in that very spot; beating roughly against the injured nerves. She gently squeezed Draco's hand when she felt it jerk in her grip, letting him know, without words, that she was fine.

Nodding slowly, the Headmistress looked somewhat unconvinced, but knew better than to continue her interrogations. If she had learnt anything over the years it was that Hermione only withheld information if she deemed it important enough to withhold. She wanted to press, but pulled herself away.

"Very well. You will do as Madame Pomfrey orders and spend the remainder of the night in the Hospital Wing. I highly suggest that you do not put any pressure on that shoulder, as it will probably cause more discomfort, so you are quite lucky that there are no classes tomorrow." She turned around, intending to leave the Wing, before pausing mid-step. "If there is anything else you wish to talk to me about, please feel free to come to my office. My door is always open." Turning back around, she moved to the door, adding loudly, "And, Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley, and Mr. Malfoy, I highly recommend that you do not spend the night here, unless you wish to anger Poppy some more. Go back to your dorms within the hour."

When the door clicked shut, Hermione let out a loud sigh and rubbed her face. She felt weary, exhausted, and ready to fall over and sleep. The only thing stopping her was the looks in the eyes of Harry and Ginny.

"Ginny," she said softly, sensing more than seeing their movements as they grew more alert at the sound of her words, "Harry, I have something I really need to talk to you about."

"What is it?' That was from Harry, anxiety evident in his voice.

"It's about Ron," she began. "There's…there is something not right with him."

"What do you mean?"

"I know."

"About time you realized it."

Blinking, she looked up at each person in response. Ginny's face was red with insult and confusion, Harry appeared more understanding and weary, while Draco squeezed her hand and gave her a knowledgeable look.

"Gin, I know that you might not be happy to hear this, but really…something is wrong with him. He's acting out of character," Hermione began, trying to avoid insulting the youngest Weasley. If she knew anything about the family it was that they were extremely close and, no matter what, they defended one another. "Ron…he isn't himself anymore. For a while now, he's been acting very odd. He's been spewing a lot of this soul mate stuff to me, claiming that we wouldn't live without each other, how I love him, and a whole other bunch of bollocks that, at first, I found more endearing than anything.

"But now, well…to be honest, the reason I fell off the stairs was because I was trying to get away from him," she admitted softly, lowering her head to look at her hands. "I don't want to be stuck alone with him; he's been growing more…frantic, I suppose, of late. I thought he was just being a jealous prat like he used to be, you know how he is, and I thought that he was just being his usual angry self, but the past few times we've met, I've noticed a lot of major differences. Something isn't right with him."

The room filled with deafening silence; she swore she could hear her heart battering against her chest, could listen to the sounds of her bones crunching as they reformed her shoulder. She didn't want to look them in the eyes; she feared that they might consider her to be as paranoid as Harry had been in Sixth year. She didn't want to see their questioning gaze, the reluctant looks or the glances that subtly and silently told her they thought she was losing her mind. She didn't want to see the rage engraved in Ginny's face, or the disappointment in Harry's eyes.

Ginny heaved a heavy, long sigh, followed by the sounds of Harry's shirt rustling as he rolled his shoulders. Slowly, the silence was broken as they found the words that had been forming on their tongues.

"You're right."

Her head jerked up, eyes wide with shock at Harry's spoken words. Ginny was slowly nodding, although the look in her eyes told Hermione that she ached inside, that she wished that her brother wasn't going through such troubling matters. She felt Draco stiffen slightly at her side, almost as though he hadn't expected Harry to agree so quickly and easily.

Perhaps he had underestimated the Scarhead. Draco had always had this feeling that Harry had been smarter than he let on, that he had more common sense than most people their age, but this was the first time he had ever actually seen that common sense in action, the war included. Harry had always led the way, but he had always had this tendency to think more with his emotions than with his brain.

Draco had to admit, he was pleasantly surprised.

"We've been trying to ignore it, too," Harry admitted after a moment's silence. "Ron…well, you're right, he has been acting very weird lately. When we went back to the Burrow, he was furious half of the time; he wouldn't come out of his room, and, well, you know everything. Sometimes, if he did come out, it wasn't exactly for the best, and he would just blow up at everyone. I thought he was just angry or jealous, too, that you decided to stay behind. But when we came back…he started talking about how you loved him and how you two were meant to be."

"We thought that he had read too many romance novels during Christmas break," Ginny added. "I thought that my brother was just being silly, maybe trying to act up, or taking the novels into too much consideration. It made things really uncomfortable after a while, though."

"He got really angry really easy," Harry continued. "He was really frustrated that you wouldn't spend time with us, but after a while I could see why. I was getting fed up; he would lose it almost daily. We were still thinking he was just the old, jealous and angry Ron but…but we started to worry."

"What really happened on the stairs, Hermione?"

All eyes turned on Draco; it was almost as though Ginny and Harry was forgotten the Slytherin was there in the wake of their friend's issue. It became rather clear on their faces that they felt he was quite unwelcome in this conversation, as though he was infiltrating or spying on their friendship and issues.

Hermione, all the while, couldn't help but shiver at the raw pain and anger in his eyes. The glittering, grey thunderstorms were back, flashing savagely in the light, and his hand squeezed hers tightly, almost in warning.

'_You had better of not done something stupid,'_ were the words she read in his actions and look.

"Well, as I said, I accidentally bumped into him on my rounds," she began.

"Hold on," Harry interrupted, turning on Draco. "Why the hell are you still here? You're not friends with Ron, what does any of this matter to you?"

"Hermione is Head Girl," Draco replied curtly, "I am Head Boy. Anything that might cause harm to or affect the Head Girl in any way affects me."

"How does that…?" Ginny began with a glare.

"Please," Hermione sighed heavily, wincing as another pulse of pain shot from her shoulder. "I will explain everything to do with Draco after we've dealt with Ron, okay?"

Ginny looked ready to argue back, very much in Weasley fashion, while Harry gave her a somewhat puzzled yet knowing glance. Draco, all the while, couldn't hide all of his shocks. Was she going to…? Was she about to explain their relationship to Harry and Ginny? Was she even ready? He didn't know why, but he was terrified at the thought of her friends knowing, in spite of his arguments moving towards exposing their relationship.

"Very well," Hermione breathed, and then began to repeat the conversation she had had with Ron earlier, omitting or altering some sentences in order to protect herself and her stupidity from Draco's rage. He would have every right to be angry with her, she realized now, she had not exactly thought everything through from beginning to end. She hadn't been careful enough, hadn't paid enough attention, and had thought that she could take on everything. The pain radiating from her shoulder told her otherwise, justifying Draco's reasoning and worries.

When she was done, Draco was practically seething, Harry looked rather furious, and Ginny looked torn between feeling rather ill and pissed at her brother. Draco leapt to his feet and began pacing at the ends of the beds, hands in pockets, body tense with rage.

"Hermione…"

"This wasn't the first time something like this happened, only this was the worst," she cut off Harry. "A few weeks back," she began, retelling the time when she had bumped into him after her discussion with Professor McGonagall. "He just," she said when she ended, "it just gets worse each and every time."

"At least the bastard didn't touch you this time," Draco snapped, cutting off both Harry and Ginny who looked ready to talk. "But fuck, Hermione, this is exactly why I don't want you wandering around alone. Don't you see? I warned you, I fucking told you, but you never listened to me. You always think you can go about, gallivanting on your own, that you don't need any help. Fuck, Hermione, start _asking_ for help." He raked his nails over his face, mirroring the same marks he had made only a few weeks ago. "Fuck…fucking fuck," he groaned into his hands, utterly oblivious to the shocked looks Harry and Ginny were sending him. "Now you see why I worry? You see why I was pissed when I found out that bastard tried to touch you over the holidays? You understand why I've been warning you and warning you?"

She wanted to say she was sorry, wanted to explain herself, to make him understand that she just couldn't see the Ron she knew as the Ron she now saw, but it died away on her tongue when he removed his hands, exposing raw, bitter pain etched into his features. Never before had she seen such pain, such fear embedded into a single human being's face before. The storm in his eyes faded, lightning and thunder disappearing, leaving only heavy, crashing showers that seemed to make his rainy autumn scent thicken.

"I almost lost you," he whispered, choking back the pain that crushed his throat, drying it just as his eyes moistened. But he wouldn't cry, he didn't dare cry in front of anyone but her. Only she could see his true weakness, his raw emotions and fears exposed. Only her.

She slowly got to her feet, silencing Harry and Ginny with a single look, before making her way, rather unsteadily, over to Draco. Gently, she lifted her hands and brushed his cheeks, rubbing the skin softly with her thumbs as she gazed up calmly into his smouldering, aching eyes.

"I'm here," she murmured softly. "I'm right here; he didn't get me. And now…now I know better," she admitted. "I was wrong, Draco…I was wrong to think I could do everything on my own. Sometimes…sometimes I do need help. Right now, I need you to think clearly to help me."

"But next time…"

"I promise you, there won't be a next time," she answered forcefully, squeezing his cheeks a touch harder. "I won't let that bastard hurt me again. I'll be smarter now and I have you to help."

He nodded slowly, fighting back the pain in his system, pushing it aside. He had to think clearly, had to push away the fears and pull his mind back into order. He couldn't let his past memories influence his current actions and decisions. He would help her, he would destroy that stupid Weasel and he would protect her. She was strong, she was powerful, but even she needed help.

Even she needed protection.

"If he had touched you…just one touch," Draco began, his voice returning to its normal, possessive, infuriated tone, "he would be dead right now, you know that, right?"

"You can't threaten my brother like that!" Ginny snapped, jumping to her feet. "Just because he's a right prat in need of help doesn't mean you can kill him!"

"Shove it Ginger," Draco turned, glaring at the youngest Weasley. "He's more than a right fucking prat and you know it. _I_ used to be a right prat, but I never once tried to force a woman to be my 'soul mate.' Think about it, Hermione fell down three bloody stories because you're brother couldn't keep his hands to himself. What if those stairs hadn't been there at all? What if it had been a wall? What if she hadn't had a wand? Do you think your 'prat' of a brother would've kept his hands to himself? Do you think he's in enough of a right state of mind to think clearly? His head is fucked and I don't care whether or not he's your brother or the Prime fucking Minister of Magic, if he lays one finger on Hermione when she doesn't want it, I will fucking kill him."

Hermione quickly saw the questions before they were asked, saw the discussion ahead before the topic had even taken formation, and she knew that, in a matter of minutes, she would have to think quickly on her feet in order to stop a brawl from happening. She saw the rage and curiosity in Harry's eyes and saw the way his mouth moved slowly, as though already forming the questions in his mind.

Things weren't going to be just about Ron now.

"Hermione, Draco…what is going on between you? From that way you're acting, I would almost assume that you were in a relationship."

She saw the fear in his eyes, the fear of the answer, fear of how he might react to said answer, and fear that he might not be able to see past old ties, old prejudices to be able to accept their relationship.

She wanted to deny it, wanted to lie and push it to a later date, but recent events told her that lying would only cause more problems in the future. She couldn't run away anymore, couldn't sugar-coat the painful truth with little white lies that would only grow into large burdens. She couldn't keep over-thinking and analyzing everything; sometimes, it was best not to think. Sometimes, it was to feel, and at this moment, she only felt one thing, was only one hundred percent certain of one aspect of her life, and that was the love and devotion she and Draco felt for one another.

No more lies, no more hiding; only cowards hid behind their dark masks, only the heartless and uncaring preferred pretence over honesty. She was a Gryffindor; she was courageous, strong, independent, and loving, and she would not hide her feelings any longer.

It was time. Time to admit the truth, time to let them know.

Time to come clean.

**Here we go.**

**In the end, I only needed to do a little change at the very end of the chapter, but I think it's pretty darn good. **

**Anyway, the next chapter may not be up for a bit; I have a somewhat lengthy essay due on Thursday, as well as a pretty large one due next Thursday, so I will most likely be spending my free time researching and writing.**

**If anyone knows any cool sources on Bronze Age Cycladic, Helladic or Cretan landscapes (geology, topography, building materials, water sources, etc), let me know!!! I will love you for all eternity.**

**RECIPE!**

**Since the weather's getting nicer, I'm choosing a nice, simple fruity one today!**

**Fruit Pizza, found on iPhone app: allrecipes(dot)com, submitted by Lois**

**Ingredients**

1 (18 ounce) package refrigerated sugar cookie dough

1 (7 ounce) jar marshmallow crème

1 (8 ounce) package cream cheese, softened

**Directions**

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 C)

2. On an ungreased medium baking sheet, smooth the refrigerated sugar cookie dough (ensure that it is almost room temperature) into a single layer approximately ¼ inc thick. Bake in the preheated oven 10 minutes, or until edges are lightly browned and center is no longer doughy.

3. In a mediu bowl, blend the marshmallow crème and cream cheese. Spread the mixture over the baked crust. Chill in the refrigerator until serving.

4. Use whichever fruits preferred as toppings (sliced, of course, unless small berries, such as blueberries, raspberries, or blackberries)

Some suggested fruit combinations:

Blueberries and sliced strawberries

Sliced pineapple (drained), canned sliced peaches, sliced bananas, sliced strawberries and sliced kiwi.

Apple pie filling and dusted with cinnamon.

Strawberries, kiwi, fresh pineapple and drained mandarin oranges.

Tips to keep fruit fresh: cover pizza is a lemon sauce (drained pineapple juice, 1/3 cup real lemon juice, and ¼ cup sugar. Combine in pot, heat and stir until it boils. Slowly stir in cornstarch that has been dissolved in a bit of cold water. Cool completely and then pour over finished pizza).

Tip/Alternative:

Instead of marshmallow crème, whipping cream (same amount) can be just as effective/good.

**So, there we go. Too bad this isn't a slash fic, it would be hilarious: a fruity dessert to go with a fruity story.**

**Anyway, please review and I will work hard to finish the next chapter as fast, efficiently and as well-written as possible!**

**Thanks!**


	12. Nothing Else Matters

**Just before I start, I want to say thank you to everyone who wished that I get well soon. Obviously, there were some selfish motives behind this, considering injured wrist = typing less, therefore posting later. Haha. But thank you all nonetheless. I appreciate it and it made me happy every time somebody wished me well. You guys are great. **

**Another note! HIATUS IS OVER! I shall be posting the next chapter within a few days (it is currently September 14th, 2010 where I live). It is almost 100% finished and I wanted to let you all know a bit ahead of time! Thank you all so much for your patience and be on the lookout for the next chapter!  
**

**Also, all apologies are listed at the end of the chapter because there are so many! Thank you all for your patience. **

**NOW READ! I command you!**

**Disclaimer: possibly lots of swearing, mainly from Draco and Ginny and some fluffy goodness.**

**Note: edited some of the beginning due to several suggestions. I hope that it is less confusing now. Sorry about that!  
**

**Chapter 12**

**Nothing Else Matters  
**

_ "Hermione, Draco…what is going on between you? From that way you're acting, I would almost assume that you were in a relationship."_

_ It was time. Time to admit the truth, time to let them know. _

_ Time to come clean._

Silence filled the room, deafening, dark, and foreboding, pounding relentlessly against their eardrums as they sat and stood still, waiting impatiently for the answer that could make or break them. Ginny wanted to start shouting, screaming, to do anything that might end the silence that assaulted her ears. A part of her didn't want to know the truth, didn't want to see what was right before her eyes; she loved her family, loved her brother in spite of his problems, and had, for the longest time, secretly wished that Hermione would marry Ron.

She didn't want this. Didn't want to see the affection that was so obvious in their gaze. Didn't want to watch as Hermione held Draco's face or watch as his thumb grazed gently across the back of her hand in the subtle yet compassionately loving gesture. She didn't want to know the truth; she wanted to go back to her First year, back when things were simpler, back when it was okay to dream, when she was able to look to the future with a bright sense of hope that everything would go alright. That everyone else would deal with the grimy bits, that the others would deal with the consequences of their actions.

But it was too late for that; she was grown now, she had dealt with the consequences, and she would have to deal with more. Even if she didn't want to; she had no choice.

The only thing she could do right now was grasp Harry's hand and pray that the damning words never left Hermione's mouth, hope that, in the end, she would somehow become deaf and dumb and be forgiven for her inability to deal with the truth.

She watched as Hermione turned at Harry's words, face pale and drawn, eyes shadowed and dancing, as though lost in thought. She watched as Draco's hand slowly slid down to capture hers, his damn thumb brushing the damn girl's hand, and she wanted to scream some more.

A part of her was willing to accept this possibility, was more open that she used to be, but another part just couldn't see how things could possibly work out. It just couldn't understand why or how, couldn't believe, couldn't begin to comprehend the mechanics of their relationship.

The thing she feared more, however, was Harry's reaction. Would he fight back, would he push and shove and repel the possibility of a relationship, or would he open his arms and accept them with ease? Would he stand with her if she decided to rebel, to fight back? Or would he step aside and let her fight her own battles? Would he laugh at the absurdity of the thought and claim that this was all a ruse, an elaborate joke made up for their sadistic pleasure?

Damn it all.

Staring up at the duo, she narrowed her gaze, chancing a glance at their eyes, wondering briefly just what they were thinking about…

* * *

Damn it; this was not exactly how he had seen things going. He had not expected her to be so open, so ready when just a few weeks ago she had been fighting with him over the mere thought of exposing their relationship. A few weeks back, he had been more than ready and open to expose what they had, had fought with her to the point that she had run off, trying to explain that it would be easier to let everyone know the truth. But now that he was faced with the possibility that everyone might know, now that he might truly have to face the consequences of their actions, he feared what might come next.

Draco Malfoy would never admit it openly, but he had never been so nervous and afraid than he was at this very moment.

How would Potter react if Hermione did speak the truth? Would he try to hex him and then try to 'snap Hermione out of it'? Would he, as uncharacteristic and odd as it would be, accept their relationship with ease and continue to aid them in fighting back Weasel and his obvious psychological ailment?

What about Weaslette? He expected her to start ranting, raving and screaming, to pace back and forth, and to shout that she didn't understand how Hermione could be so cruel. Yet, her reaction to the exposure of Ron's problem told him that she might act in a slightly more adult fashion. She might actually be willing to listen, perhaps she would hear them out, allow them to explain their reasoning before beginning her useless rants.

Was he ready? Ready and willing to face the consequences of their relationship? Was he prepared to watch as the world as he knew it crumbled around him? Was he ready to rebuild his life once more, after having only finally accomplished doing so a couple years ago?

He wasn't too sure of anything at this moment, was not entirely positive that he would be able to react in the more eloquent manner, but he was certain of one thing.

He fell in love with Hermione Granger and nobody would ever be able to take it away; no matter how much they ranted and raved, no matter how much they shouted about differences and bloodlines, no matter how many times they tried to bring up their rather volatile relationship of the past. He would stay with her than allow others who were unwilling to accept and listen push them apart.

He would not let them tear them away, especially her friends.

Especially that damn Potter.

* * *

Damn that Malfoy.

Harry wanted to find a corner somewhere, to curl up in the dark and think, think for hours on end, to soak in everything he had heard in the past few minutes and be able to consider the situation. But now, because of his bloody big mouth and his endless curiosity that was only ever matched by Hermione's, he would be attempting to soak in more information that he ever thought he might receive.

He watched as Hermione stood silently, eyes lidded, mouth downturned in the softest of frowns, and he knew once her lower lip was tucked between her teeth that she was thinking. Considering…going over the pros and cons, debating internally over whether or not she should admit the truth of the situation and deal with the outcome.

The second her lower lip disappeared, his heart wrenched in terror. In the war against Voldemort, he had been able to stay strong and defiant, knowing without a single doubt in his mind that he was on the right side, that he was battling against a known enemy. But now, at the mere possibility that Hermione was with Malfoy, a man who had been proclaimed as their enemy up until the end of the war when he confessed he had been a spy and detrimental to the destruction of the Dark Lord, Harry wondered whether he would find the resolve to lash back and fight when he wasn't exactly sure which side was the right side.

He cared about Ron; in spite of his current state of mind, the redhead was still his close friend and companion and he despised the thought of his friend in any sort of physical or mental pain. But…but Hermione was his friend, too. Unlike Ron, she had always stuck by him with the exception of Third year and the issues with the Firebolt and Scabbers – well, Peter Pettigrew – and she had always been there to listen. Would he be able to return the favour? Would he be able to push the past into the back of his mind, see Malfoy as a changed man, and accept her for who she was? Would he able to stand with her and push back the expected onslaught and fire that would come from the remainder of the world? Would he defy years of experience, a childhood filled with hatred aimed towards the blond man, and readily accept Hermione's love?

Damn it all to hell…was he even ready to do this? Had he not just spent the past few years of his life fighting for the entire world? Would he never be allowed a single grace period in which he could live in peace without any battles to fight? He didn't want to deal with this now, didn't want to listen to the words he knew she would say, but he had no choice.

She had been fighting, too, he realized quietly, eyes falling to look at his hands. She had been fighting for as long as him, unnerved by being stuck on the sidelines at points in time, fighting through her own battles each and every year. Now…now this would be one grand battle. She was still fighting; had perhaps been fighting longer than him if the closeness of the duo said anything, and she was fighting for a much different cause than he had been. In spite of the war, in spite of their battle to free the Wizarding World from repression, she still feared to let the world know about her love. She fought now, not to liberate the world, but to liberate herself from the confinements of the world in which she lived.

Hermione, he realized dimly, was an independent woman pushing for acceptance.

Maybe…maybe it was time to let her do as she wanted.

* * *

"I have one condition."

The four words broke the silence, shattering it like glass to sprinkle and fall gently around them in a shower. Air became easier to breathe, yet thickened at the same time; hearts began to hammer wildly against ribs as fear began to swell within their bodies.

"Just as long as it's acceptable," Harry managed to say, keeping his hands on his jeans – which he had thrown on when Ron had come barging back into the Tower.

"I refuse to say anything until we have all sworn Wizard's Oath not to repeat a word spoken in here. I do not want a single person outside of this room to know. Do you understand?" Hermione's hand shook, a gentle trembling as told more than her words ever could.

"And why don't you want anyone to know?" Ginny's voice was rather snappish, almost as though she was more irritated by the situation than anything.

"Gin…" Harry began softly, trying to avoid confrontation as much as possible.

"It's okay Harry," Hermione answered before turning her gaze to the redheaded girl. "If you must know, Ginny, it's because the rest of the world just isn't ready yet."

"Ready for what?"

"That," the brunette answered calmly, "will only be revealed if you accept to take the Oath."

"And what does this Oath entail?"

Damn that girl and her curiosity, it was already starting to get on Hermione's nerves.

"If you try to relay any information given in this room to anyone outside of it, in any fashion from writing to speaking, we will all be alerted and you will find yourself unable to without causing yourself pain," Hermione explained softly.

"Pain?" Ginny shouted. "What the hell is the matter with you? Is this secret of yours really so damning that you would rather cause us pain than to let the rest of the student body find out?"

"I'm taking no chances," Hermione snapped back. "Not after a certain arse managed to sneak around the rules of the last Oath I swore." Her eyes glared at Harry, anger glowing viciously in the amber orbs as she reminded him of how he had managed to relay the information given without explicitly telling everyone what they had said. "The rules this time are different; you cannot write, cannot use any means of communication whatsoever to let anyone know what has been said in here, including using code or different wording."

"Why?" Ginny cried. "Why the hell is this thing so damn important?"

"Because it can bloody well mean life or death if certain people find out," Draco snapped, eyes flashing. The thunderstorm was back with a vengeance; he was fed up of the bloody Ginger's shouting and complaining, sick and tired of the way she always found a way to argue and push back. Why couldn't the bloody girl just shut up for a few moments and _listen_? Bloody hell, even Potter was more willing to listen at this moment than she was, and, with Draco's experience, the bloody dark-haired man had always been somewhat stubborn.

Let out a rather loud humph, Ginny crossed her arms in defiance and glared up at the blond. "I don't see what could mean life or death for you guys; honestly, I thought that the war ended a long time ago. You're bloody well exaggerating things because you're too afraid to let the rest of the world know your secret."

"We're not exaggerating –" Draco began loudly, ready to wring the neck of the annoying little chit when Hermione squeezed his hand.

"Calm down," she sighed. "I'm too tired to argue right now; either you agree to take the Oath or you can leave the room as I talk to Harry. It's your choice Ginny, but I'll let you know, after the discussion we've just had about your brother, I consider this a lot closer to a life or death situation than I thought it would've been yesterday. He will not give up, and I'm afraid he'll do something bloody stupid. I would rather have you both know everything rather than just his thoughts and beliefs. The Oath is to give us time, mostly to deal with Ron, and I do not want the slightest bit of this information getting back to him unless I will it, do you understand?"

"No, I don't; I don't know just what it is that's so bloody important you don't want my git of a brother to know about." Breathing heavily, Ginny ran a hand over her face, smearing some of her make-up. "Bloody fucking hell, you complicate things so much Hermione."

"Do you accept or not? I do not want to be up all night figuring out whether or not you'll agree to this," Hermione said softly yet with strength. There was a certain weariness to her voice that almost made her body appear frailer, weaker, and far more ready to collapse now as opposed to a few moments ago.

"I do."

Ginny spun to look at Harry in shock; she had expected some sort of defense, that he would fight back, try to switch the situation in some way, to alleviate the penalty for letting the words slip out. She had expected anything but this sudden, quick acceptance.

"Gin," he began at the look in her eyes, "it's obvious that Hermione wants to keep this from Ron for as long as possible, and it makes sense that she would want to avoid the entire student population to know. If just one person knew about it, by morning the whole school would know, including Ron. That, depending on what she's going to say, could be disastrous consequences. Let's just hear her out, listen to what she has to say and sleep on it." He reached out and grasped her hand, gently brushing his thumb over her freckled flesh in a manner resembling the way Draco held and brushed his fingers over Hermione's hand.

"Please, Gin, just calm down and let them talk. If you don't want to take the Oath, then I have to agree with Hermione. I know that this seems extreme but…I understand that she doesn't want to take any chances we might even accidentally talk. This way, we won't accidentally spread the word, and she can keep it quiet for as long as she needs to."

"But…but…Harry…this is…it's preposterous! You're just blindly going to accept when you don't even know what she's going to say?" Ginny cried, yanking her hand away from her boyfriend's.

"Oy, lower your bloody voice," Draco snapped when he saw the light in Madame Pomfrey's office go out. "She's going to bed, so you'd better stop that bloody screaming and keep your voice down."

"Don't tell me what to do, Ferret Face."

"If you had any bloody respect for Hermione or your boyfriend, you'd shut up and listen for once."

"You bloody…"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione picked up her wand from the bed and twirled it in the air, performing two separate movements, whispering two different incantations. "You can yell as much as you want now," she snapped, "at least some of us still have enough wits about them to create a bloody bubble and use the damn silencing charm."

Harry was the only one to nod in thanks, while Draco and Ginny glared at one another, ready to duel at the slightest hint of hostility.

"Honestly," Hermione started, reaching forward to drag Draco back, "calm the hell down you two! Ginny, you've heard what I have to say. Either you bloody well shut your mouth and agree to take the oath, or you get the hell out. I'm fed up, I'm tired, I just want to get this bloody well done and over with and all you're doing is trying to avoid the inevitable. Make up your bloody mind or I'll make it up for you." She waved her wand threateningly, several sparks shooting out of the tip.

"Bloody hell," Ginny sighed, mussing her hair with her hand, "I'm going to regret this." Breathing deeply, she shut her eyes before opening them seconds later. "Fine, I'll bloody well stay, but it doesn't mean I agree that the terms are fair."

"You'll see," Hermione murmured gently. Moving her wand in an intricate pattern, a white line drew out of the tip, dancing and playing in the air as she murmured a long spell, beginning the short process of establishing the Oath between the foursome. Once it was complete and the rules reiterated, a small blue glowing snake wrapped itself around each person before fading away into nothingness, with the exception of Hermione, whose snake was a pale golden hue.

"Why was yours different?" Ginny asked quietly, sitting back down once the incantation was set.

"Because I am the creator of the bond and it can only be broken either by the death of one of us or if I willingly give my consent," Hermione answered. "Now…let's begin…you all know the terms of our agreement, you know not to repeat this outside of this room or you will face the consequences. Now, to let you know just why we're taking so many precautions."

She moved over to sit on the bed opposite to the couple, watching out of the corner of her eye as Draco made his way over beside her for support, comfort, as a way of letting her know that he stood by her no matter what.

"Where to begin…" Hermione sighed softly, looking down at her knees, noting the way the caps were slightly scrapped from when she slid along the staircase she had grabbed hold of. It was strange; she never understood why the moment someone realized they had an injury that it began to hurt. At least the pain in her shoulder was fading as the bone continued to reattach and build itself.

"Hermione, how about we just tell them the truth and answer any questions they have," Draco suggested, gently placing a hand on her lower back, reminding her yet again of his support.

"I suppose I should…it is a good idea and makes things a bit easier," she contemplated quietly, tucking her bottom lip back into her mouth to gnaw on it. She debated internally over how to go about things, how to begin, how to continue and how to end. What was the easiest, best way to tell your friends that you were dating their ex-enemy? How was she supposed to let them know exactly how she felt without insulting or possibly causing pain on both parties?

Dive right in…just jump right into it, say it, let the shock sink in, and then let them start yelling. It was the simplest way, much easier than dancing around the truth and creating excuse after excuse.

"Harry, Ginny…what I'm about to tell you…it's very important that you listen to me. I have my reasons behind my actions and emotions, and everything makes sense to me. It may not make a lot of sense to you initially, but if you keep an open mind and let me speak, I think that, eventually, you will both come to understand." Breathing deeply, she picked at a scab forming on her right knee, trying to gain some confidence.

At the touch of Draco's hand on her elbow, she closed her eyes, took one last deep breath before the plunge, and lifted her gaze, pushing away all fear and timidity as she sat before her friends.

Harry watched at the fireworks display in her eyes, watched the way they danced and glowed, a variety of emotions, all positive, illuminating her face. Strength, compassion, honesty, sincerity…and, most importantly, the rawest, most powerful emotion of all, the very emotion that had saved his life when he was but a babe…love.

"I am in love with Draco Malfoy, and no matter what you do or say, I will never stop loving him."

The silence returned with a vengeance, overwhelming the room, stifling them, thickening the air as it electrified, very much like the air before a particularly fierce storm. Harry watched the emotional display in his friend's eyes, only one part of him shocked, while the remainder had been bracing himself for this admission since Draco had come running into the room an hour ago.

The shocked part felt outraged, unable to believe that his friend, his Muggle-Born friend, was now dating the Pureblooded bastard that had haunted and tortured her for so many years at school. He was horrified at the notion of her falling in love with such a cruel man that had such a horrendous past, and yet, the other part reminded him that Draco was changed. He didn't want to accept it, but he knew…he had seen it, watched in the way Draco fought against the Death Eaters he once swore he'd become, witnessed it in the reports he made, and had experienced it when Draco turned on the Death Eater he had stood beside in the battle and took him out before he managed to take away Tonks' life.

It was strange, unthinkable, and yet…now that he thought about it, Draco was changed.

But bloody hell…they were so different!

"WHEN THE BLOODY FUCKING HELL DID THIS HAPPEN?"

All bodies winced at the sound of Ginny's shrill scream. She leapt to her feet, eyes wide as she stared down at Hermione, waiting impatiently for the older woman's answer.

Smiling, Hermione turned her head up to stare down the rage-filled eyes of the redhead. "Over Christmas holiday."

"HOW?"

"I suppose it only came to fruition when Draco stupefied and body-bound Ronald for being a prat," Hermione answered calmly. Now that she had admitted the damning words, now that the weight was relieved from her body and mind, she felt a renewed strength. She would be able to withstand the questions, the rage, and the shock. She would be able to look them in the eyes and tell the truth; she had told them the worst of the lot, how much more damage could come about by answering the remainder of the questions truthfully?

"He attacked Ron? You _attacked_ my brother?" Ginny shrieked, spinning on the blond. "How dare you!"

"Shut your mouth, you stupid Weaselette, before you bloody embarrass yourself," Draco snapped, glaring up at her with his icy stare that froze her heart. "If you _must_ know, said brother of yours was ranting, raving and shouting like a bloody lunatic in the hallways. I had enough when he decided to start insulting Hermione, so I went out there, shut him up and prevented him from saying anything else. Besides, I've served my detentions,' he added sharply, reminding himself of all those Monday evenings when he spent two hours with Professor Sprout cleaning, replanting and transplanting all of her precious plants. It had been tedious work, yes, but at least he was done and he wasn't stuck with Professor Trelawney.

"What did he say that was so different from usual?" the redheaded spat in retort.

"Do you honestly want to know?"

"Draco…please…"

"Yes, I would very much like to know what my git of a brother said to deserve to be savagely attacked!"

"Gin…please calm down…"

Hermione and Harry's pleas went unnoticed the twosome spat back and forth, fire fighting fire as they attempted to raise their voices over the others, to have the final word in the argument.

"He called her a bloody whore," Draco snapped. "And, I highly doubt that Hermione is anything close to a whore."

Ginny looked torn between yelling at the blond for spreading lies and believing in his words. She knew that her brother sometimes got out of hand, acknowledged that, from time to time, he said things that were unnecessary and uncalled for. But she had never heard him insult Hermione in such a scathing way before, no matter what was happening.

Sitting down on the bed, Ginny gave Hermione a hard, scrutinizing stare, almost as though willing the girl to lie to her, as though she expected the very words Draco had spoken to be a lie.

"Did he really say that?"

"You want honesty, I'll give you honesty," Hermione replied calmly, thinking that things were going considerably well considering the circumstances of their relationships. "Yes, he did. I wasn't going to do anything, but the git beside me decided that it was justification enough to stupefy and silence your loud-mouthed brother. Besides, Gin, after what I just told you about him, how could you not doubt that he would ever say such a thing?"

"I…just…"

"Enough about the slimy prat," Draco said softly. "Finish your bloody tirade about us first, and then we'll figure out how to deal with him."

The redheaded girl looked up to the blond in mixed confusion and horror. She wasn't certain how the man had known exactly what she'd been thinking of, how he had managed to sneak into her mind and find the grief that was ready to pour over. She found it unbearably difficult to accept that her brother was no longer the man he used to be, and even now, when faced with the possibility that Hermione had fallen in love with their sworn enemy, she still couldn't ignore the thoughts about her older brother.

She had to push away her thoughts about her brother and focus on the task at hand, which was to scream at Hermione until the girl saw the light.

Shrugging her shoulders, almost physically pushing away her own problems, she turned her gaze back to the brunette. "What exactly do you see in this bloody ferret?" Her words were snappish, a sign that she was back into her own usual state of mind.

"Long or short answer?"

Ginny blinked back in confusion and Harry cracked his knuckles, stretching out his arms. "How about the short answer," he replied quietly, "it's already quite late."

Hermione nodded, moving her hand to rub her shoulder when a few jolts of pain radiated from the healing bones. "Essentially," she began softly, "I see a good man who hid behind a mask of hate. We used to think that all he knew was how to curse us out and be a real prat, but honestly, after the war, I started to see that it was only a mask. He's a man who grew up in a volatile environment with a father who tried time and time again to push the wrong ideals down his throat. I see a strong man who pushed away his childhood teachings to see the world in a different, I would say better, way." She smiled gently up at the man beside whose expression was torn between dumbstruck and embarrassment. "I don't see the Draco Malfoy we grew up with, but an entirely new Draco Malfoy…the real Draco, you could say."

"For all you know he could be pretending just to get in your knickers and have a good laugh about it at the end," Ginny quickly replied while Harry sat contemplatively silent beside her. "You say he's been hiding all his life behind this mask, how do you know that this isn't his mask?"

Draco jerked, almost as though he wanted to reach forward and smack the younger woman for even speaking such words. It made his heart clench in worry that Hermione might actually listen to the words, that she might consider them and think them true. Hermione was, after all, over-analytical when it came to anything and everything.

"Two things," she began, voice slightly breathy as a bit more pain ebbed from the wound. "First, he hasn't called me a Mudblood since before the war began." Harry nodded, knowing fully well that this was indeed a fact. "Second, he genuinely cares."

"Prove it."

There were some days where she honestly wanted to smack the youngest Weasley; the girl just couldn't accept an answer or a reality outside of her own and had to pick and prod until she was satisfied and the others emotionally drained.

"He defends me without hesitation; there's no internal debate over whether or not it might tarnish his reputation or as if he was trying to push away his actual disgust. We still bicker but he no longer says any hurtful things, and whenever I've been in the slightest danger, even the slightest bit hurt, he is genuinely worried. You can't fake worry, Gin, it's impossible. You can try all your might, but there is always this little look in your eyes that lets everyone know that it is genuine. He cares, Gin, and I don't care what you say about it."

"Potter," Draco began, cutting off Ginny as she opened her mouth to retort once more, "you've been oddly quiet this entire time. I expected you to be off your rocker even more than her." He gestured to the redhead. "What do you have to say?" Draco knew, deep down, when it came down to it, Harry's word would weigh far more than Ginny's ever would. Harry was Hermione's best friend, a man she looked up to for inner strength and power, and he knew that she wanted his approval more than anything in the entire world.

She'd already lost Ron, she couldn't lose Harry too.

Fiddling with a thread on his pants, Harry breathed out softly, keeping his gaze down. "I received some…advice over the holidays from a very good friend of mine. He said that it shouldn't matter who you're in love with, so long as you're in love and it's true. He said that love is something that works, no matter what, and that having friends who don't accept it only cause more harm than good." Glancing up at Hermione, he gave her a gentle smile. "He said that people shouldn't be forced to choose between who they love and their friends.

"I…I may not necessarily understand the mechanics of your relationship, I won't suddenly become Malfoy's best friend in a matter of minutes and I sure as hell don't approve of _him_, but…I don't want to make you choose."

Hermione's throat clenched shut in fear; was Harry about to tell her that he wasn't going to be her friend, no matter what? Was he about to turn his back on them, in spite of everything he just said? Her mind reeled with panic and fear that she was about to lose her closest friend.

"I'm happy as long as you're happy," he said with another smile. "I don't like Malfoy, maybe it'll change after a while, who knows? But, just because I don't like him doesn't mean I shouldn't approve. You're my friend and that's all that matters, your happiness is more important to me than a petty childhood rivalry. It took some time for me to be able to see this way, but I'm glad that I do. You're my friend, and it's more important to see you happy than torn and worried."

Hermione's eyes lit up with a joy that she hadn't felt in a while. Pure, raw happiness filled her body and she smiled broadly, moving her gaze between a stunned Draco and an ever calm Harry. Suddenly, she leapt forward, hugging Harry tightly in spite of the pain in her shoulders. "Oh Harry! You…you're so wonderful."

The brunet sat still for a moment before closing his arms gently around his friend, holding her tightly in his arms.

"You know, a few months ago, I don't think I would've ever seen myself in this situation; I had a lot of thinking to do over the holidays and this advice really helped me grow up and see everything in a clearer way," Harry admitted as he let go of the brunette, gesturing for her to sit back down.

"Well," Hermione answered in a slightly chipper voice, "a few months ago, I didn't think I would fall in love with a ferret."

"I'm not a ferret."

"Oh, yes you are," Hermione replied with a roll of her eyes, sitting back down on the bed. Glancing briefly over to Madame Pomfrey's office, she felt quite glad that the Mediwitch had remained within her study. It was the benefits of being the most trusted student in the entire school. "Now, Gin…Harry's had his say. What do you think?"

Sighing heavily, the redhead rubbed her face in frustration, torn between screaming at her friend and listening the very words her boyfriend had just said. The relationship just didn't make sense, she wanted to try to make sense of it, but she was starting to know better than to nitpick at this late hour, after such a long and difficult day, when everyone's tensions would be running high and their defense up stronger than ever.

"I think you're both bloody mental," she muttered, stifling a yawn. Harry sent her a warning look and she shrugged her shoulders. "What? This makes about as little sense as the Into-net thing Muggles have. ("Internet," Harry corrected automatically to deaf ears.) I just don't see how this works out, hell, I have no idea why it works, but hell…for the strangest reason I see that it does. Doesn't mean I like it anymore than I like Goyle, but fucking hell…Harry's right. I can't make you choose, Hermione. I suppose I'll just have to deal with it for now…doesn't mean I like ferret-face or anything, I still can't stand that blond git and I don't think I'll ever be able to stand him. But for now…I'll bear with it. Who knows? Maybe once this shit with Ron is done and over with, I'll go back to asking a million questions and trying to find the littlest crack in your relationship and then I'll hex the hell out of him."

"You mean it Gin?"

Draco frowned at Hermione, wondering if his girlfriend was off her rocker. "She wants to hex me, and you ask her if she means it?" he snapped.

"Not that," Hermione sighed, adding an elbow to his ribs for good measure. "Everything else, Gin…do you really mean it?"

"I have no choice; we have enough to deal with right now with Ron, I don't see any other option aside from make life horrible for you and making you choose. And, really, I'm pretty sure you might end up choosing Malfoy, for Merlin knows whatever reason." Ginny heaved a breath and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "But bloody fucking hell, I still can't believe that this has happened. You do realize, Hermione, that this is going to have a huge impact on everyone?"

Shifting a shoulder to relieve some discomforting pain, the brunette sent her friend a strong smile. "Yes, I know exactly how everyone will react, and you know what? It doesn't matter to me. I don't care what they say, I don't care what they do, I don't care if they try to break us apart or keep us together; I love Draco and that's all that matters. Besides, with you two by my side, we'll be unstoppable."

"I'm only defending you," Ginny said quickly. "I don't give a damn about that blond git beside you. I'll defend you and support you, but I won't be quick to help him out unless you ask of me. I'm your friend first and foremost and I'll help only if it's for your welfare. He's still an irritating ferret in my books and still needs several good kicks to the…"

"Gin," Harry cut her off gently as he caught a glimmer of irritation in Draco's eyes. "Not now…we'll resume the fighting later."

Hermione unconsciously shifted; resting her head on Draco's shoulder as tension gave way into exhaustion. She was relieved that Harry had somehow matured over the holidays, although her curiosity was pricked at over who had managed to push Harry into that maturity. She was pleased that Ginny, surprisingly, was slightly more accepting than she had thought she would be. The fiery redhead could have a temper as vivid as her hair. Although, it had taken a good argument with Draco and several reprimands by Harry in order to her to calm down and think thoroughly. But, in spite of the surprising turn of events, she was pleased that her friends would defend her and be there for her. She was grateful that they were so good and kind and she had been terrified that they would do nothing but refuse her or make her choose.

Now all she wanted to do was lie down and sleep; the day had been exhausting and the evening even more so. The exhaustion was piling on, tugging her eyelids down and pushing on her body, trying to tug her onto the bed and into the realm of sleep where worries faded away into sweet, gentle dreams.

"I think we should get going," Harry said softly, rubbing his hands on his jeans. "It's getting quite late and we still have a lot to think over."

Ginny glanced at the clock above the door and she nodded. "I'm starting to get real tired now; it's been a tiring day."

Harry and Ginny stood to part and Hermione opened her shut eyes for a moment to remove the spells she had earlier cast. When she moved to stand, Draco's gentle yet firm hand on her knee kept her in place. If she had been less tired, she would have argued, but her mind was growing foggier by the minute and it made it difficult to fight back. She instead leaned up and embraced her friends in turn, muttered her goodbye, and fell back on the bed as they walked away.

Draco walked with the couple to the door, trying to get out of earshot of Hermione. As they paused at the door to the Hospital Wing, Draco shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at Harry.

"I'm grateful that you decided to grow up, Potter," he muttered. "Not because I wanted you and your goody-two-shoes group to accept me, but because that way, Hermione won't have to worry so much. I don't like it when she worries too much." His attention shifted back to the woman, fighting back a smile as she kicked off her shoes and sent them flying on the floor by the foot of the bed. All he could see were those wriggling feet and it somehow made him want to chuckle.

"You really do care about her, don't you?"

He sent Harry a look and rolled his shoulders, stretching his back. "I love her," he admitted without hesitation, although a faint blush crept across his cheeks at the thought of admitting his feelings to the Boy-Who-Lived-And-Got-Too-Much-Attention-For-His-Own-Good. "And I won't let anyone stop that."

The dark-haired man nodded and stuffed his hand into his pocket, keeping the other at his side. The fist was opening and closing, almost as though he was tempted to either punch Draco in the face or reach out for a handshake. In the end, his hand remained by his side. "If you really do care about her, then you wouldn't do anything that could hurt her." Draco nodded in answer, knowing fully well what Harry was getting to. The don't-hurt-my-best-girl-friend speech every man, brother, father, and uncle gave. "If you hurt her, I swear, Malfoy, I'll make a Death Eater look like a pansy."

Draco remained unfazed and simply tilted his head in acknowledgement. "I believe it."

Harry and Ginny stepped out of the infirmary, knowing that the discussion had ended. Draco just barely caught Harry saying gently, "I'm glad Hermione has finally found someone she loves…even if it's a ferrety bastard."

Torn between rolling his eyes and fighting back a strange smile that he didn't want anywhere near his face, Draco shut the door and made his way back to Hermione, who had blissfully passed out on the bed, blankets half covering her legs in her half-hearted attempt to cover herself. He looked at the way her hair fanned around her face, watched the way her lips twitched as though she was caught in some kind of dream, and he leant over, gently rubbing his thumb over her cheek.

Moving to cover her in the blankets, he quietly pulled a nearby chair over to rest beside the bed, sitting down in it. As he rested his arms on the bed, head in his hands, he couldn't help but smile.

He may be a ferrety bastard, but he was one hell of a lucky ferrety bastard.

Weasley, on the other hand, was one dead weasel.

* * *

**Hey guys.**

**Again, I apologize for taking so long to update. I will give you a lovely list of reasons why: **

**Easter break was filled with work and studying**

**Post-Easter break was also filled with work, studying and essay writing.**

**Had a huge essay to write for one of my classes (minimum 10 pages), and lost it all night before it was due. Had to rewrite the entire thing (which was actually over 13 pages long). **

**Second mid-term for another class**

**A lot of work, a lot of hours spent at work, or doing school work**

**Soccer in free time on Sundays **

**Studying for finals; I just finished my last one today (21/04/2010) and I had a final worth 60% last week and another take-home final due the same day. **

**Family issues; a family member was really sick and unfortunately passed away over the Easter weekend, so I was helping around the house and making sure that my parents were okay (it was my father's sister)**

**Beginning minor training; I'm doing the Walk to End Women's Cancer. If anyone wishes to donate to my $2,000 pledge, I will post the link in the next chapter. **

**So yeah….life took a very busy turn since I posted the last chapter back in…what? February, I think? I'm sorry it took two months to finish this one; it had been lying on my computer for the longest time, half-finished, waiting to be finalized but I just didn't have the time. I thank every single one of you for your patience and now that school is over, I will be able to dedicate more time to writing. **

**Thanks guys.**

**Here's a little recipe for you all to enjoy! Since summer is coming along, I figured a nice fruity beverage might be in order. **

**Note: contains alcohol, but you can probably substitute with something alcohol free. **

**Frozen Strawberry Margarita**

**Ingredients**

6 fluid ounces tequila

2 fluid ounces triple sec

8 ounces frozen strawberries

4 fluid ounces frozen limeade concentrate

6 cups ice

**Directions**

Place ice in a blender and crush for 15 to 20 seconds. Add frozen strawberries, tequila, triple sec and limeade. Blend until smooth.

Notes: some people suggested less ice, so do as you wish.

Found on: allrecipes(dot)com app on the iPhone. I love that app.

**Thanks for reading everyone and thanks again for your patience!**


	13. The Simple Things

**Sorry for such the long wait everyone. I was having a lot of difficulties figuring out how to continue this fic. I know I have a specific goal in mind but I just couldn't figure out how to exactly get there once I had Hermione's confession written up. But now I think I have an idea of what to do now! **

**I'm sorry again for the wait. I did mention that the fic was going on hiatus, so I hope nobody was freaking out too much. I also had a very busy summer; I did some traveling, lots of work, a lot of soccer, and I was doing fundraisers (my friends and I did the Weekend to End Women's Cancer walk on the 28-29 of August, which is a 60 kilometre, 2 day walk. 32km on the first day, 28 on the second. Our group raised over $8,500, and in total, our city raised $5.1million for women's cancer research, I suggest to anyone living in a major Canadian city to do it again next year if you feel physically up to it. The most amazing experience ever!). **

**Anyway, I'm sorry again for such a huge wait. Aside from good things, bad things also happened and I needed time to think and just be with myself for a while, too. But, I'm finally back. At least it was only a few months; it could've been way worse. I could've gone on hiatus permanently or for over a year! Think positive people!**

**Also, anyone who is interested in gory or dark anime, I highly suggest Shikabane Hime (Corpse Princess, you find it on youtube via FUNimation's account) or High School of the Dead (animeseason(dot)com) – very good zombie anime; I watched the first two-three episodes last night and it was AWESOME! (Although beware of intense, crazy, in-your-face fanservice. If you don't like fanservice, I suggest you not watch it).  
**

**So here it is. I'm sorry if I make any little mistakes; it's been a while since I've written and I may not 100% remember everything I've exactly written up to date, but I do have outlines! I also didn't get a chance to do a read-through, seeing as once it was done, I wanted to post it right away. (And my new Word is kinda of douchey where I actually have to click "review" in order to see all of the underlines; I'm trying to figure that out, haha). I also got a few other ideas for my next chapters!  
**

**Here it is!**

**Chapter 13**

**The Little Things**

She hid in the darkness, sneaking along the corridors, pressing her body against the wall as she traveled through the quiet, darkened hallways. She wasn't supposed to be up at this hour, she was supposed to be curled in her warm bed, sleeping the night away and having the sweetest dreams of love. Instead, Pansy Parkinson was creeping her way around the school, trying to make her way into the library to find the particular documents she so desperately yearned for.

Documents that she was not supposed to touch, let alone know existed.

She had no choice, however, now that things were coming to push and shove. She had tried for the past few weeks to establish an appropriate relationship, to try to go back to the way things used to be, and every time her attempts were rebuked. She was fed up, sick and tired of the way things had become. He had become nothing but some pathetic little pet, a sick puppy trailing behind that witch who seemed to have a ruling hand over him and his actions. He defended her, fought for her, stood up for her honour and sat with her at occasional meals.

It was not right.

They should not have contact of any form; he should not be defending her in any way, and should not, at all, be her friend.

He was hers and hers alone, and she did not share.

Footsteps echoed softly in the distance and she quickly looked around, searching for some kind of hiding spot to use in order to avoid detection. She couldn't afford to be caught; the teachers would be on higher alert in the future if they found her out of bed. They would become more vigilant and search even harder, which would make things more difficult for her.

Spying a relatively large statue of a man, she rushed behind it, grateful for the shadows and the size of the statue. Just as she tucked the last bit of her robe in back of the stone sculpture, she heard the footsteps turn the corner and slowly make their way down the hallway. She wondered briefly who they belonged to, was it a teacher or one of the Prefects? She knew that it wasn't Draco; he wasn't on duty tonight. Neither was that little bitch Granger; she checked. If it were Granger, her wand would be drawn and she would be prepared to attack.

Show that little bitch not to mess with her man.

She watched the teacher walk by the statue and waited patiently for her – Professor Sprout – to round the next corner before creeping back out and making her way down the corridor.

Adjusting her robes, she hurriedly made her way towards the library, grateful that she was close to her destination. Pansy needed that book; it was the only way she would be able to get Draco out from Granger's spell and back into her arms. So what if it could have negative repercussions? So what if someone could get hurt? It didn't matter so long as she and Draco were fine.

Anyone else in the way, beware.

Another set of footsteps began, not far behind her. She hurried up, spying the great oak doors not far away. She was almost there; she couldn't afford to be caught.

The footsteps were louder, slapping rather quickly on the stone floor.

Her hand grasped the handle and pulled, the oak doors creaking softly in the silence. She wanted to hush them, but knew that it wouldn't have any effect. Instead, she opened it an inch and slipped her way in, silently closing them just as the footsteps rounded the corner.

Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, she looked quickly around the library, quite pleased to know that she was the only student who dared sneak in after hours.

Who in their right mind would, anyway, sneak into the library, of all places? Aside from bookworm Granger, of course.

She made her way around the library, noting that the bookshelves made for good cover and yet a very creepy atmosphere; they seemed to lean over, shadows reaching out as though attempting to grasp hold of her, as though they wanted to hold her in place until someone could find her. Shuddering in spite of herself and her darker past that would otherwise feel at ease with the shadows and darkness, she made her way through the shelves to the back section that was forbidden to all unauthorized personnel.

Like her.

Slipping under the sign, she made her way past the dark, cracking, fading books, not touching a single one in fear of retribution from the magic that bound the pages together. Her family had taught her enough about the dark and forbidden texts, showed her the ways of avoiding the plagues that followed their opening and made sure that she knew not to touch any in case of an exterior charm placed on the text.

She was willing to bet anything prissy, little Miss Granger didn't know that.

Withdrawing and lighting her wand, she continued through until she found the text that she had been looking for. A book that she knew was left untainted by magical barriers and charms, a text that would come to her assistance in this time of dire need.

The title was faded beyond recognition, she knew the red bind that wrapped around the spine, recognized the gold flecks left behind on the cover, so few and sparse that not one letter could be legibly formed. Caressing the cover, fingers gently tracing the invisible title, she grasped the book tightly to her chest. It was the answer to her prayers, the solution to her problem, and it would help her get just what she wanted and deserved.

The spells inside were written in an ancient language, perhaps only once deciphered by the 'almighty' Dumbledore, but she knew a fancy little spell – taught by her magically gifted mother – that would help her decipher the wording.

Slipping the small book into a pocket of her robes, she crept her way back out of the library, even more vigilant now that she had the illegal text on her. This thing could get her into a lot of trouble if she was found with it, even more so since she had knowledge of it.

But it would also give her exactly what she wanted.

Bring it on Granger; she had her own arsenal and it was made to create pain. Draco would be hers by the end of the school, and this book would make sure of it.

* * *

Every morning, when the sun rose and her alarm rang, she woke sated, relaxed, and satisfied, as though a night's rest could accomplish much more than allowing her restless brain some reprieve.

This morning, however, she woke with a pain in the middle of her back, an ache in the temples, and the strangest sensation of foreboding so powerful it made her stomach twist and knot like a pile of serpents.

Daphne Greengrass knew that something wasn't right. She just wasn't sure what it was.

Going through her daily rituals, she expected some movement to ease out the knots, but they remained tightly in place, a constant reminder of her discomfort and the mental unease. The shower did nothing to warm her cooled flesh, the brush massaged her head ceaselessly to no avail and food seemed to only make the serpents writhe more in her stomach.

Something was terribly wrong; she hadn't felt like this since the morning her family visited her uncle's only to find his dead body and the Dark Mark hovering above his house. All because he hid his Muggle-Born wife.

The sense of foreboding chased after her throughout the day, creeping slowly from the back of her mind to eventually overwhelm her thoughts, successfully distracting her from her classes and studies. Enough so that she ended the day with a detention with Flitwick for not paying attention.

It didn't matter, however; all she wanted to do was find the source of the sensation and get rid of it as fast as possible.

The answer came in form of Pansy Parkinson's creepy Cheshire cat smile as she seemed to almost sashay towards Daphne at dinner that evening. The second she saw the glittering smile, Daphne knew that Pansy was the source and she would have to try, time and time again, to unsuccessfully changed Pansy's mind.

Some days, she wondered why she even bothered trying, but it was always worth it. She may not necessarily change the girl's mind, but in most cases she succeeded in getting Pansy to do less drastic things.

Astoria leapt to her feet, rushing over to Pansy, almost bursting with excitement. "Did you get it? I didn't see you this morning, so I couldn't ask, and…"

When Pansy nodded, Daphne had to admit that her curiosity was sparked. She knew that she would find out eventually, most likely when they convened in Pansy's room that evening, but she suddenly wanted to know now.

Listen and watch; she couldn't do anything more or less at the moment but listen and watch. Observation was the greatest way to receive information about a person or situation.

She watched the girls whisper excitedly throughout the remainder of dinner as she pushed her food around; the foreboding sensation was back tenfold and her appetite hid away upon its return. When the girls got up to leave, she saw Pansy's gesture and knew it was for her; so she stood and followed suit, catching up with them on their journey to the Slytherin Common Room.

Pansy was quiet during the walk, but bubbling and jittery, as though she couldn't wait to say what she had to say, but feared to speak the words in case of being overheard. Daphne's assumption was reinforced when, after shutting the door to her Prefect's bedroom, Pansy began to cast several silencing charms and locking spells over the room.

Sitting on the bed, Daphne tucked one leg up and hugged it to her chest, resting her chin on her knee as Pansy paced excitedly back and forth.

"What's with the meeting?" Maryse, who had been dragged along by Astoria, asked suddenly from her perch on the corner of Pansy's desk. "Did you finally get to shag Draco?"

"Not yet," Pansy grinned in return, a strange gleam filtering into her eyes. "But I'm getting a lot closer to it."

"So why are we here?"

"Oh, just tell them already," Astoria sighed, breaking the silence that had followed Maryse's question. "Tell them or I will."

"Fine, fine," Pansy waved, moving to stand in the middle of the room. "Alright, well, last night I slipped out of the dormitory and made my way to the library."

"_You_ visiting the library during the middle of the night?" guffawed Maryse. "Since when have you turned into Granger?"

"Since the book I wanted is this," the brunette replied, tugging out a nameless, red-leather bound text from her bag. Maryse looked rather perplexed and Astoria glowed with pride. Daphne squinted her eyes, seeing the faded, crumbling golden flecks that were once the title on the front, and her eyes bugged.

The sense of foreboding came back even stronger and her heart thundered wildly in her chest as she realized the implications of Pansy's actions. Her mind buzzed angrily, swarms of bees consuming her coherent thoughts as memories of the war were drug back into her mind.

They had been sitting down in the Malfoy's den, going through another lesson on Dark Arts and its history from the ever knowledgeable Carrow siblings. Alecto was in the process of teaching them about different texts that could contain useful curses to 'teaching those Muggles and Mudbloods' a lesson. One of those texts in particular was titled Vox Mors, a book contain various charms and spells that went from curse breaking, to charming and seducing, to finally having pages devoted to charms geared towards mutilation, torture, pain and death.

Alecto began stating that the book had spells in it that could easily break any other charm, successfully freeing an individual from someone else's spell. She also made sure to point out that the book contained some of the strongest spells as well, including many charms that would sway a person's thoughts or perceptions, leading them to believe falsities. It was one of the most useful texts for Death Eaters; however the only known location of the only printed text was in the Hogwarts library, in the restricted section. That is aside from the original copy being in Voldemort's hands after he hid the copy in the library. The Death Eaters were fairly certain that none of the staff at the school even knew the copy was in their possession.

Now Daphne stared at the copy in Pansy's hands, and the girl handled it as though it were the holiest of all possible holy grails.

"Vox Mors," Daphne whispered, as though terrified to speak the name any louder. "How...no, I think I know how, but why? That is…it's very drastic."

"Drastic times call for drastic measures," Pansy replied, placing the book on her dresser with tender care and love.

"Drastic times are time of war and desperation!" Daphne cried. "Not trying to get a man to fall in love with you! That book is deadly and dangerous!"

"It is my saviour!"

"It has spells of death and destruction; it won't save anyone or anything!"

"It has spells that can save people from other spells," Pansy argued, face reddening with anger and passion.

Daphne let go of her leg, stomping her foot on the ground. "You know why it has those spells? Did you even listen to what the Carrows said? It has spells that break protective barriers to make it easier cast the pain and torture spells!"

"Don't talk to me like I don't know what's in it," Pansy snapped, picking up her bag to toss it angrily and unceremoniously into a corner.

"Then you know what those spells can do," Daphne retorted sharply, almost getting ready to cut the anger and turn her words into pleads. "You know the damage it can cause and you know what will happen to you if you're caught with it!"

"I know what I'm doing," Pansy answered, tilting her head back and puffing her chest, giving herself a haughty air. "I won't get caught, trust me. Nobody will ever find out what's going on; I'll make sure of it."

"And how? I know that you can trust us, even though I don't agree with what you're doing; I'm not about to blab to a teacher." At least not yet; she wanted to wait and see what would happen first, although she doubted Pansy would ever go through with anything. She would most likely tell Draco she had the book or something along those lines, terrify him into leaving Granger for Pansy. Not necessarily the best tactic, but at least it was better than cursing someone.

Pansy's gazed softened just the slightest. "I know I can trust you girls; that's why I'm telling you all this without the Wizard's Oath." Her eyes then hardened, the rock-like gleam returning with a vengeance. "But trust me; I will make sure that _nobody_ ever finds out about this. I have my ways."

"How? By manipulating people's minds? By torturing them? How will you do it? Is there even another way of doing it safely aside from the Wizard's Oath?"

All Pansy said was, "I have my ways," as she moved over to caress the book. Daphne's heart shuddered in disgust and fear at the sight before her, Pansy possessively eyeing the book as though it were the saviour, some godlike being that could give her all she wanted. It was not normal…

"Then what are you planning on doing with it?" Maryse said softly from her perch, swinging her legs back and forth, gently hitting the desk with her heels each time.

Pansy looked up and it seemed as though her face became twisted, shadows forming and sliding over her features to alter her expression. She looked like a strange demonic creature, or someone of demonic possession, her brows knotted and furrowed, her lips curled unpleasantly, cheeks growing gaunt as her teeth were bared in some semblance of a smile. Cruelty, malice, revenge, and pure hatred glowed in her eerily bright eyes.

"Isn't it obvious? I plan on getting rid of Granger once and for all and making Draco mine. Just like it's supposed to be."

Daphne's heart began to weep in fear.

* * *

Life moved on; it was the easiest way to put things. Life simply kept on moving. She had half expected the world to jerk to a sudden halt the morning after their talk, to have every student frozen in time, expressions of awe, disgust and confusion permanently stuck on their faces. She expected to hear an incessant buzzing of whispers, although a group of flitting bees were forever stuck hovering in the same spot.

Life, however, had other plans; it kept moving, no matter what. The world kept turning, the students moves and there was nary a sound of buzzing bees anywhere near the school in the wintry days. Life moved on.

Classes went by quicker than usual; perhaps it was because a heavy burden was finally lifted from her shoulders, weighing her down, slowing the world to a crawl. Maybe it was because she finally felt free; she could smile at her friends, could talk openly once more to Harry and Ginny without feeling like she was keeping some tumultuous secret hidden.

Her life was her life once more; she was no longer ruled by anxieties and stress. The only things that stressed her in any way was homework, but even then, with Draco helping her and she returning the favours, things were a lot less overwhelming than they used to be. Harry even asked less and less for help on his assignments.

Ron became nothing but a blip on her radar; parts of her knew that she should be more worried but she felt on top of the world, something she had never felt before in her entire life. Nothing could come in her way; things were beautiful.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Sliding the feather out of her mouth, Hermione tapped the quill on the corner of her parchment, successfully creating a little black blob of ink. "Hm?"

Draco lounged; he did not sit, he _lounged_, on the chair to her left, watching her with rapt attention. He answered with a small grin, shuffling his parchment on his lap. "You looked lost in thought," he answered calmly.

"Where did you hear that Muggle expression?" she asked, looking back down at her parchment as she began to note important corrections.

"I believe a certain feisty witch once asked me that very question," he replied, still watching her.

Hermione's head lifted, eyes sparkling with memories. "Well, it seems we have a fast learner. By the way, seeing as we are on the topic of learning, did you ever learn how to use a microwave?"

He grimaced and shook his head in defeat. "I tried several times in the Room of Requirement; I blew them all up in the end because they pissed me off too much."

"Does this mean you're giving up?" she teased, tucking the quill's feather back between her lips.

"I've told this before; Malfoy's do not give up," he responded in his typical pompous manner. "We merely take a step back and look at our situation in order to decide how to continue."

"So you're giving up for now?" Her eyes glowed and dimples formed in her cheeks from her teasing smile. Sweet Circe, he loved those little dimples. Although he wouldn't admit that out loud because she would tease him relentlessly.

Instead, he crossed his arms, huffed loudly, and tried not to toss the nearest pillow at her. "Must I repeat myself? We do not give up, we assess the situation. Now don't bother me, witch, I'm doing my homework and wish to continue getting O's."

Rolling her eyes at his little nickname for her, she stretched out on the couch, leaning on her left side to use the coffee table as a desk, tucking her legs a bit in case Draco decided to reach out and tickle her bare feet with his quill.

"If you must know," she sighed after a moment of examining her paper for Slughorn, "I was thinking about how things have changed."

He merely watched her from his spot, shifting so he sat cross-legged on the couch. He knew that in most cases, when she began to say her thoughts, silence was the best answer. If he pressured her, the wall would go back up in spite of everything they had been through. They still had hurdles to go over, things to deal with; there was a number of things he still hadn't told her, so he didn't expect her to have completely opened her mind to him right away. He simply knew not to prod or poke; she would speak of her volition and tell whichever tales she deemed important.

"Do you remember how things were beforehand? How we used to fight all of the time, how you and Harry couldn't get enough of fighting with each other in the hall? Things now…things are different. We don't fight as much, and ever since we had that, well, discussion with Harry and Ginny, you two hardly fight. You make not talk to each other in the halls, but at least it's better than throwing curses at each other. Even Gryffindor isn't so horrible with you and Blaise anymore. It's…nice. No more little fights, no more arguments or curses, it feels like a real school now. Slytherin and Gryffindor will always have their rivalries, but it at loss less…extreme now, don't you find?"

He nodded even though she couldn't see him. Her words were the truth; things were a lot less stressful now. He felt he could walk around the corridors now without feeling the glaring eyes of Gryffindors boring into his back. He felt, and he hated to admit it even to himself, safer. There was less tension and things felt more amicable.

"Except for Weasley," he added softly, speaking the name they had avoided mentioning for the past three weeks.

"Yes, well," she replied, "we will have to make him understand that things are different now."

"It won't be easy, you know that." He placed his papers on the coffee table, having finished correcting his assignment. "He's as stubborn as a Hippogriff."

"You think I don't realize that?" Hermione answered, putting the final dot on her paper. "He's been my friend since we were eleven. I know it's going to be difficult."

"I would ask you when you plan on telling him, but I think I'll have to just trust you on that matter," Draco added after a moment, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Cupcake, you have no choice," she answered with a little giggle to her voice. Rolling over, she stretched her body across the couch, pulling out all of the kinks and knots in her back.

"Cupcake?" he almost choked.

"Yes, Cupcake. It's more of an American nickname, but I quite like it. I find it's very cute, don't you?" she giggled.

"It's horrible!"

"Well, deal with it because it's your new name."

"No. I refuse!" His hands itched for something light to toss at her; it would teach her a lesson in giving him such effeminate and childish nicknames. He preferred Almighty Wizard God or the Great and Omnipotent Malfoy or Sex God. The last was his favourite. But Cupcake? Who the hell gave their boyfriend the name Cupcake?

"Oh, but you look like a vanilla cupcake!" she giggled. She wasn't truly serious about the nickname, but she just felt like having fun all of a sudden, and teasing Draco was the best way to do it. Give him a stupid, girlish nickname and he would go mental. It was very entertaining. "You're pale like a vanilla cupcake and your hair is like some vanilla or meringue frosting. Just add some sprinkles and you would look just like a cupcake!" Her words ended with a loud squeal as he tossed the nearest pillow at her face.

"Draco!" she shouted, tossing it back at him, disappointed when he caught it with ease. Damn those Quidditch skills.

"You deserved it," was his answered as he slipped the pillow behind his back for comfort. "And you know it."

She wouldn't admit that, but yes, she knew she deserved it. But she couldn't help it; some days she just had to mercilessly tease him.

"If you think so, Cupcake."

_Whump!_

"DRACO!"

He couldn't help it; he loved enjoying the little things in life, even if it meant possibly getting hurt by an angry witch. It was all worth it to see her smile.

* * *

"Do you hate me or something?"

Harry turned to face a particular redhead, whose body was equally as muddy, soaked, and chilled as his own. "Why would you ask such a thing?"

"Because you scheduled a bloody practice in this weather and purposely had me showing drills when the others were able to hide from the rain," Ginny snapped, shoes squeaking as the Gryffindor Quidditch team trudged back into the castle.

"Yes, well, remind me to never again schedule a practice while it's raining; it was the single worst idea in the entire world," Harry grumbled in response, pushing his sopping hair out of his eyes for the umpteenth time.

The whole team responded with a chorus of agreements as they slipped and slid their way towards the Tower, ready for hot showers and warm, dry clothes. Harry hadn't known exactly what he had been thinking when he decided to schedule a practice in this weather; he hadn't been thinking completely straight for some time now.

It wasn't that his mind was distracted by a particular blond-haired git who seemed to have captured the heart of his best friend of roughly eight years. It wasn't that Ginny was torn between complaining passionately about this particular thing on random whims. It was the way Ron trudged solemnly behind the group, eyes distraught, face pale not just from the rain, with his mind always seemingly in a faraway place. It was unnerving.

He knew that they had to do something soon; it was just too much to watch Ron lost in his mind, as though stuck in some kind of memory or perhaps trying to unearth some sort of answer to everything occurring. Harry couldn't help but wonder if somebody had cursed Ron in the final battle at Hogwarts and that it was having some lasting psychological effects.

Moving back into the warm Tower, the team sighed with relief at the warmth of the room while many students eyed them with a mixture of confusion and pride – only Gryffindor would be brave enough to practice during the stormy weather. He slipped into Ginny's Prefect room, knowing full well that the students were not about to blab on the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Defeat-Voldemort. They didn't care so much, given that Ginny didn't care so much when boys snuck in to be with girls, so long as it was all consensual. Let boys be boys and girls be girls.

"We have to do something," Harry sighed, yanking off his soaked cloak.

"Yeah, not schedule a bloody practice in the damn rain again," Ginny replied, plopping down on the floor to yank off her leg guards.

Rolling his eyes, he bent over to slide off his guards as well, nearly having to tear them off of his pants. "You know what I'm talking about."

Throwing her arm guards across the room, Ginny looked up to him from her spot on the floor and breathed out a sigh. "I know that you know; I just…"

"Don't want to admit it; we've just finished solving one problem and now we have another. I know, Gin, but we can't hide from the truth forever." His shirt joined his cloak and he smiled at the way Ginny's eyes hooded with desire. "Focus," he reminded her, chuckling softly.

It was her turn to roll her eyes as she began discarding the rest of her clothes. "I just don't know what to do, Harry. I mean, it seems like everything's changed so much. Hermione is with the ferret, Ron's mind is…it's like it's breaking. Gryffindors are friends with Slytherins. Everything's gone so … mad."

He fell harshly on his butt when his pants decided to glue themselves to his legs and he almost bicycle-kicked in order to get them finally off, glaring at Ginny as she giggled. "Sod off," he muttered, tossing a sock at her. "Anyway," he began, "Hermione and Malfoy are one thing, but honestly, I don't think we have to worry about them. I don't like the git much either, but he _did _fight with us during the war and I suppose it is possible that he has changed. It doesn't mean I'll be his best mate all of sudden just because Hermione's snogging him. But I think we should worry more about Ron. It's not healthy."

"You are absolutely wonderful at pointing out the obvious," she sighed, getting to her feet once all of her soaked clothes were removed. He grinned sensually up at her and this time it was her turn to remind him to focus. "But," she added when the glazed look of desire mostly left his eyes, "you're right. It really isn't healthy or good for him, and it is quite serious for it to make me stop thinking about how much I despise Malfoy."

Harry laughed as he stood, making his way towards her private shower. It was the one thing he wished he had; a private little spot to hide away when he wanted to. The boys' shower wasn't too amazing, given that it was just a room branching off from each year's room, a row of stalls, some for loos and others for showers. Not even a nice bathtub.

"Well, I think we should try to talk to Ron." He heard her step in after him and he reached for two towels, handing one to her. "At least get him to see some sense."

"Without breaking the Oath, of course. We have no choice on that matter," Ginny reminded him, reaching into the bathroom with her wand, which she had taken off of her dresser, to start the warm spray.

"I would believe that's a given. I don't want to end up looking like Marietta for the rest of my life."

"I heard that it actually scarred in place and that the Mediwitches have been unable to remove it," Ginny laughed, moving in to join him.

Harry couldn't help but join her in the laughter as he began to wash the grime and dirt from his body.

"So what do you think we should do, Almighty Leader?" Ginny asked after a moment's pleasant silence. He laughed at her nickname, it was something she had produced during the war when it seemed that everyone looked to him for answers and orders. At the time he found it irritating, now he found it more endearing.

Moving behind her, he pressed soft kisses to her shoulder, sliding his hands around her waist, splaying his fingers across her flat stomach. "We enjoy ourselves and figure things out later. I'm sure we'll come up with something."

Pressing back against him, she chuckled softly. "Well, I suppose I think that something has come up."

"That was lame, Gin."

"I know."

They moved against one another, the age old dance of passion and love. His hands touching and caressing, sliding over her freckled body as she let out involuntary gasps of pleasures. His touches created a wildfire older than the earth itself, trails of electricity and need following in their wake. His kisses were like little bursts of fireworks against her skin, explosions of need coursing throughout her body.

Her mouth turned to capture his as the passion built up, squirming, writhing forms under the hot spray of the shower. Her breasts were small, but always a perfect weight in his callused hands, her petite yet powerful body growing tighter with every like touch as the passion increased.

The cool tiles created a new sensation against her warm back, almost pleasurable, with heat on her front and cold pressing on her back. She bowed up against him when he moved into her, her mouth seeking his as they began to move in unison, his hands sliding over her legs to keep her firmly in place and add extra, little pinpoints of pleasure. They moved passionately, yet tenderly, their movements urgent yet slow and soft. Their mouths sought each other, their hands sliding and twining as their bodies slipped and slid against one another. Together, the pace grew more frenzied until they reached the crest together, gasping each other's names as they fell over into a sea of pleasure, grasping tightly onto each other.

When their breath returned and bodies could move less sluggishly, they shut off the water, dried off, and joined yet again in her bed, warming each other with their bodies as he placed tender kisses on her wet hair. Slowly, their eyes shut and sleep overwhelmed their sore but sated bodies.

For now, they wouldn't worry; they had each other and that was all that matter. Enjoy the small things in life and focus on the bigger later.

* * *

"Mmm…Draco…"

"I'm trying to sleep…"

She shifted against him, pressing her naked, warm body against his, and he, in spite of sleepy mind, suddenly feared that he might not be able to sleep again for some time. Her hands trailed gently down his side, fingers caressing until they reached his hipbone, her breath warm and soothing against the nape of his neck.

"I can't sleep," she admitted quietly, pressing her cheek against his back.

Opening his eyes, he stared into the darkness of her bedroom for a bit, waiting for her to continue. When the only thing that followed was a soft sigh escaping her lips, he rolled over carefully, adjusting her so that she lay half across his chest, moving her hand to lie on his ribs.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly. He didn't know why he spoke in such a low tone; perhaps it was just a habit obtained from all those days when he and Blaise would whisper to each other in the darkness of their dormitories when they couldn't sleep.

Her hair was a wild halo around her face, her lips pursed slightly, the only sign that she felt some semblance of discomfort. He could only assume that it was mental, for her body curved into his, relaxing against his form.

"Hermione?" He reached up and ran a hand through her hair, watching as her eyes faded away, mind falling into thought and memory.

"I can't sleep…everything seems so great, so wonderful, it feels like some kind of dream and I know it isn't." She smiled up at him, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "You know…I never once even imagined that I would wind up falling for a git like you. I assumed that it would be someone else, maybe Harry, maybe Ron…but never you. Who would've guessed, eh?"

"Is that what's bothering you? The unlikeliness of our relationship?" He grabbed her hand as her fingers began to trail along his ribs, tickling him. Instead, he twined his fingers with hers and pressed his palm against hers, adding a soothing pressure.

"No," she said with a quiet laugh. "Not at all. I got over that before Christmas; I think I spent most of my holidays dealing with that issue."

"Then what's bothering you so much you can't sleep?"

She shifted against him, sliding her leg against his to rest her foot on his calf. Pressing her cheek firmly against his chest, she let out a quiet huff of air before deciding to move forward and speak.

"A particularly annoying and mental redhead."

His body stiffened involuntarily. He was growing more and more fed up with that Weasel managing to bother Hermione. The prat did more harm than good and even when things seemed better, when they seemed happier and life was easier; he managed to weasel his way into their minds and latch on, poisoning their happy thoughts with his relentlessness and obsessive behaviour. It was really starting to grate Draco's nerves.

"Why does that worthless git always seem to bother you so much?" he asked, knowing the answer was going to be the usual.

"He was my friend."

"Yes, but no friend would treat another friend that way," he said softly, reminding her of the harsh truth. She may not want to hear it; it seemed he constantly had to repeat it and she never seemed to really want to permanently insert it into her memory, but he was going to say it time and time again until she finally understood.

"I know," she sighed, turning her head to press more of her face against his chest. Was she burrowing against him for support or trying to hide her exhausted and anxious features? He wasn't sure…

"Then Hermione," he started after a moment during which he examined her face, "you need to either stop worrying about him and realize he can take care of himself or just get the weight off of your shoulders and tell him the truth. You only have two choices."

"I know." Her tone was a mix between whining and sighing. A part of her was fed up him always saying the same thing, but another part was constantly reminding her that he was right. He only kept repeating himself because she just couldn't accept it. She hated herself for it.

Draco reached up and ran a hand through her mass of curls, which had erupted after he nearly forced her to let her hair dry naturally without a spell. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "I'll help you in any way you want, well…almost; you might have to threaten me to get me to do certain things, but well…I'm ready and willing to help, and I'm certain that Potty and Weaselette won't mind either."

"What have I said about calling them those names?"

"I'm quite certain that they still call me kind names when we are not around."

"Two wrongs don't make a right."

"No, but punishing one person and letting the other get away with the same crime is favouritism and very annoying."

Her lips twitched into a smile and she pinched his ribs. "You're such a prat."

"You like me that way."

"I keep you solely for entertainment purposes."

Grinning, he rolled over on top of her, pressing his body firmly against hers. "And I keep you for my own kind of entertainment. How fascinating!"

"Oh, sod off," she half-laughed half-sighed, pushing against his chest in a half-hearted attempt to get him off of her.

"Now, honestly, Hermione," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek, "you have to figure things out or this is going to keep eating away at you. If you don't do this for yourself, do it at least for me; I can't stand watching you like this."

"I know…I know…" she breathed out, twining her arms to drape them over his back, fingers clutched together as if she tried to keep him held tightly against her body. "I just…he was my friend, Draco," she choked out, her face pressed against his throat.

"Just as Pansy was mine," he reminded her gently, pressing his cheek against hers. "But sometimes…sometimes we need to get away from them. They're not healthy for us, they just don't understand or refuse to. Weasel…Weasel isn't good for you. He uses you, he's deluded, and he needs help. You can't keep going on like this; you'll make yourself sick, you'll let him get under your skin and then you won't be able to get rid of him. Don't let him do this to you…"

"I know," she half-sobbed, tears running freely down her cheeks, "I know…" It wasn't healthy; one minute she felt on top of the world and the next, the slightest thought about Ron brought her crashing down into depression and constant worry. She had to stop, had to let it all go, had to push it away. But she didn't know how…

"I need…I need…I need your help," she whispered into the darkness, squeezing her eyes shut as she clung to him, the tears hot on her cheeks.

"I'm here for you, Hermione," he murmured, "I'll always be here."

He was there and would always be there. He would be there to hold her when she cried, to caress her when she worried, and to support her when she was about to fall. She wanted to be strong, wanted to remain independent and self-reliant, but in times like this, she needed him and he would be there to lend her a helping hand. He would help her push Ron's poison from her veins and cleanse her, he would fight back all of her worries and free her of her stress and woes.

All because he loved her.

* * *

**So? How was it? Did you guys enjoy it? I know it's almost like a mini-recap, going into everyone's lives briefly in this, save for Ron's because writing about him makes me angry, but still…I hope it was good enough.**

**Anyway, I should be able to get some more writing in this semester, seeing as I only have three courses (dropped my useless Anthropology that was requiring me to buy a fucking 65$ e-book to access the course website…totally lame). I also kindly told my work to go fuck itself for Fridays and I now have them off to spend the day writing. **

**So, I hope that it was good. I thought the ending was just…I don't know. I was listening to Linkin Park at the time and it just flowed. Some of their songs are just so damn…inspiring. I think it was Iridescent, which I was impressed with, considering their new album is kind of up-and-down. Some songs are awesome others are alright. (Weezer's Hurley, however, is 100% awesome and I LOVE All My Friends are Insects – from their deluxe version). **

**Aaaaanyway, so here it is. After such a long wait. I'm so sorry for everything, but I'm glad to finally be inspired once more. The summer just seemed to suck all of the energy out of me and I just couldn't find any ideas or inspiration. **

**I want to thank everyone for all of their patience. You guys are so wonderful and it makes me keep going. You are the reasons I kept typing and re-typing this chapter. Thank you all so much! You are all so spectacular. **

**By the way, if you guys have any requests, ideas or such, feel free to message me or say them in your review and I'll see if I can grant them. Please remember that even though I am now invigorated, I still have school to focus on and I want to keep my A average. **

**Thanks everyone! You're all awesome!**

**See you next chapter!**


	14. Falling Deeper

**Hey everyone!**

**I'm glad that, well, you're glad that I'm back (try saying that five times fast, lol). I'm happy that I'm finally out of my rut and able to write once more.**

**I'm also happy that some of you reviewed so fast! I wasn't expected a lot right away, mainly because I've been gone for so long, but thank you guys!**

**Randomly placed disclaimer: I own nothing and that depresses me because owning Harry Potter would mean I would have money to pay my school fees and books without any issues. **

**Note: Little error in the last chapter. If I had made 3 weeks go by, then we would've passed March 1****st****. I shall edit it so that it says only two weeks have passed. Sorry about that! **

**Also, another little thing: I just realized, in writing this, that I never once thought about how Draco probably got a scar from that time Harry used Sectumsempra on him. So, I've added a little mention of it and will back to Merry Christmas Mr. Malfoy to add him mentions of the scar. Silly me!**

**Minor warning: uh…there may be something called a lemon in this chapter. If you don't know what a lemon is, you may learn by reading. If you know what it is and do not like it, well, then don't read it. Simple as that. I don't want to hear any childish complaints about "OH MA GAWD! YOU LIEK WROTE A LIEK LEMON! EWWWWWIE!" Just stfu. **

**Happy reading!**

**Another little note: I was tempted to wait until I've reached by 250th review, but I was too lazy to wait for three more. Haha. Don't forget to reviiieeewwww!  
**

**Chapter 14**

**Falling Deeper**

His birthday was coming up.

It sent a pleasant feeling in his stomach, washing away the pain and hate of the last few weeks to coat it in a warm, thick layer of joy. Smiling to himself, he sat by the window and watched the late winter rain fall, even happier that he didn't have Quidditch practice today.

Now if only everything else could go his way…

He wondered, curiously, if she would be getting him a present. He likes presents; little gifts that showed his friends' appreciation of him, little things that he usually wouldn't be able to buy himself or ask for from his family. Nice little presents.

Ron Weasley sat back on the armchair, sighing heavily, a smile plastered to his face. Nothing, not the rain, not homework, not even a test could ruin his good mood today. All because, deep down, he knew that she would be getting him a present.

She had no choice, right? She was his friend and friends always got each other presents for their birthdays. And it was a big birthday, too. He was going to be twenty. 2-0! Twenty! He would finally be the same age as her and he was unbelievably excited. Was it possible that the reason she refused his advances was because she didn't want to be with a man younger than her? It was possible, wasn't it? Then that would mean, as soon as he was twenty – and older than Malfoy – he would be ripe for the picking and she would have no choice but to choose him. After all, age was a sign of maturity, was it not?

Tapping his fingers in an unknown rhythm on the armrest, he listened to the chattering of the students in the Gryffindor Common Room. A group of girls nearby were discussing their homework for Trelawney, while another group of boys were consoling their friend who had just been shot down. A part of Ron said that he knew how that felt, but another part was determined not to be shot down. He hadn't actually been shot down; she was just not ready. Deep down, she was, but she thought she wasn't. It wouldn't be long, though, before she would be ready.

Just one more day and it would be his birthday! Maybe she was waiting for his birthday to tell him; it would make one wonderful birthday present. They could embrace under the rain and make love all day long. He would show her was a true man was like, he would touch her in ways that would make her scream with pleasure, and they would never be able to get enough of each other.

It was certain.

He watched as Harry stepped into the Common Room, followed by Neville. They had probably been in the library, with one helping the other in the class they were better at. From the looks of Neville's face, Ron deduced that Harry had been trying to teach Neville more Defence Against the Dark Arts. Ron felt a twinge of pride knowing that he didn't need Harry's help in that class. In your face, Longbottom. He was willing to bet that he was even better than Malfoy! So there, Ferret Boy!

Harry looked up and caught Ron's eye, and Ron grinned at his mate as the dark-haired man made his way over. "Hey Ron."

"Hey Harry," Ron replied, still grinning. "Teaching Neville some new tricks?"

Harry let out a small laugh, grabbing a nearby chair to sit down beside his friend. No matter what, in spite of everything going on, Ron's failing sanity and everything else crashing around him, Harry still enjoyed these moments with his friend. The moments where Ron seemed more lucid than any other time, when Ron would smile and joke about mundane things, and the times when they could just talk endlessly about Quidditch and girls. These were the moments Harry missed most; they were growing fewer and fewer in the past months, and he just wished that he could find some way to bring Ron back to his old self. It may have been selfish, yes, but at the same time, he knew that what Ron was doing wasn't healthy and would not end well for the redheaded male.

"He just can't seem to get the hang of some of the new spells. You'd think he'd start learning them faster, seeing as he did fight in the war," Harry said with a small chuckle. "Instead, he's the same as always."

Ron let out a quiet laugh, a sound that Harry hadn't heard from his friend in a good while. It was a sound he missed.

"At least he's improved a bit in Potions," Ron added after a moment.

They sat back, laughing for a bit as they reminisced about the last time Neville had blown up his cauldron. Half of the mess had landed on Pansy and her gang and their hair had been dyed a pleasant shade of neon orange for a week. It had been quite the sight.

Sitting back, still smiling, Harry turned to Ron. "By the way, is there something you wanted to do for your birthday this weekend?

Ron's eyes suddenly lit up at the question and Harry wondered how long Ron had been waiting for questions about his birthday to be posed. It wasn't like Ron to wait; normally he would throw things in people's faces until they got fed up and told him to sod off.

It was just another of the many changes that Ron had undergone in the past few months.

"I'm not sure yet. It's too bad it's not a Hogsmeade weekend or we could go down and have something at the Three Broomsticks." Ron turned to look at Harry, hope glowing brightly in his eyes. "Do you know if Hermione got me anything?"

Damn it all to hell; Harry had been avoiding the topic of Hermione for a while now. It was difficult enough trying to calm Ron down when he got into his fits, but now that he knew the truth behind Hermione and Draco's relationship but could not say a word, it was even more difficult. There were some days where he wished Hermione had never told him the truth, yet he felt flattered and appreciated at the same time.

The truth was, and would always be, a double edged sword.

Harry could only answer honestly in this occasion; "I…I don't know. We haven't been speaking that much lately; I think she's been busy with schoolwork and Head duties." The last part he made up; he knew why she was not coming around the Gryffindor Tower anymore, he knew why she didn't spend much time with Harry and Ginny anymore. She did not want to hear Ginny rant and rave, nor did she want to take the risk of bumping into Ron. Outside of class, the last time she saw Ron was when she fell down the stairwell and Harry could only assume that she didn't want a repeat, of which part, he wasn't sure. Although he was fairly certain she, and any other normal human being, wouldn't want to repeat the experience of falling down a few flights and having their shoulders ripped or broken.

"That's true," Ron said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than agreeing with Harry. "She has been very busy. Maybe…maybe she hasn't said anything to you because you wouldn't be able to keep it a secret from me!" Lucidity was failing more and more with each passing second. Harry's hands gripped the armrests, nails digging in as he feared and waited for the snap. "She's…she's probably got something special planned. Right Harry? She always does special stuff, always gives gifts even if she got into a fight with you. I mean, she _does_ love me, right? You don't have to say anything; I know she loves me."

As he rambled on and on, Harry felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. What has happened to his friend? What happened to the simple, honest, short-tempered, and fun-loving Ronald Weasley? What happened to make his mind fade away, to have his old self dissipate before his very eyes only to be replaced with this new, unstable and broken man? Harry watched silently as Ron began to mumble about Hermione, obsess over how she must have a special surprise planned for him and how she knew, deep down, she was meant to be with him. It terrified Harry, and no matter what he did, nothing could break his friend out of his state of mind.

"Ron," he whispered, turning to his friend as the man's murmurs became more frenzied. "Ron." His voice louder this time.

"Ron!"

Blue eyes blinked at him, a fog slowly fading away as though it had masked his very vision moments before. Confusion glittered in them, his mouth turned into a slight frown of curiosity. "What's the matter, Harry?" He spoke as though nothing special had happened. As though it was a common occurrence for Ron to act in such a way.

That was what Harry feared the most.

* * *

The library had always been a haven; it's tall, towering shelves like a protective barrier, the calm and soothing silence a harmony of solitude, and the books were a thousand stories waiting to be told time and time again. Time stops in the library; each text pulling its reader back to an age or era decades, even centuries, before their time. It brought them into a world of fields and villages, of towering marble temples and constructions, or of gold tipped, marble pyramids that held the dead.

The library was, and would always be, her safe place. No matter what.

Perhaps it had become too widely known that she preferred hiding amongst the books and shelves, caught in another period of time, for she had not been seen there in a while save for collecting necessary texts and leaving. She had known that he would have been able to find her there, and thus hid in another spot that he would not have access to. Today, on the other hand, she missed those books and the timelessness.

Sitting at a small table near the back, the lights dim and a stack of texts to her side, she relaxed and read, trying to use the stories to push away her current problems.

Harry had come up to her the day before, telling her he needed to talk to her in private. Being free for a brief moment, they had slipped off to a quiet alcove to talk.

_"You have to do something, Hermione," Harry began as soon as they were out of the crowd and in a secure place. _

_ "About what?" She knew what he meant, but she didn't want to admit it just yet. _

_ "Ron," the dark-haired man whispered. "He's…He needs to know the truth. You do realize his birthday is tomorrow, right?"_

_ She fidgeted with her blouse, fingering one of the buttons as she nodded. She felt guilty, Harry realized. "Yeah…"_

_ He continued, knowing full well that he was about to fuel her guilt. "He seems to think you'll have this surprise for him. I think that he wants you to tell him you love him."_

_ Her eyes shimmered with a mixture of pain and annoyance. It hurt to know that he was still expecting presents from her even though she was no longer talking to him, and it irked her that he was still in this state of mind. _

_ "Well," she sighed softly, "there's a little problem because I haven't bought him anything yet. If I do get him a present, it certainly won't be a confession of love."_

_ "You have to do something Hermione," Harry repeated, grasping her shoulder. "It's not healthy, he stuck in these…delusions…and you have to get him out of them. He needs to know the truth sooner or later, preferably sooner."_

_ "I know," she sighed softly. "I just…"_

_ "Don't know how to do it," he finished for her. Squeezing her shoulder in a consoling gesture, Harry gave her a small smile. "I'll always be there to help you out. I've messed things up in the past and I don't really approve of this relationship you have with Malfoy, but it's your life and you should choose to live it the way you want to. Bill showed me that. I'll be there to support you, whenever you decide to tell Ron. I'll even force Ginny to show up if you want."_

_ Nodding, Hermione pulled Harry into a tight hug before separating. "Thank you. I'll…I'll need some time to think, but I will let you know. I'm lucky to have a friend like you."_

_ Harry's smile softened and grew wider. "I'm the lucky one."_

She found herself smiling at the memory in spite of her internal fears. Even though she and Harry had had their issues, they had argued and annoyed each other in the past; Harry had always been there for her like a brother. Even recently, he was just trying to do the best for Ron; he just wanted the truth and was tired of being left out. She would have probably done the same.

Now, she had to focus on her current problem. Ron.

It always came back to Ron.

Rubbing her face, she stared down at the book, not really reading the passage before her. Ron was something…someone she had never faced before. A friend gone, literally, mad. It was painful to watch and even more painful to know that there wasn't much she could do. She was terrified of telling him the truth; she feared that it would only make him snap and do something he would most likely regret.

She had no choice, however; she had to find a way to tell him. Of course, she would not say anything on his birthday; it would cause him too much pain. For him to receive such horrible – by his standards – news on his birthday would be like putting salt in the wound. It wouldn't help at all.

His birthday…

Damn it all; she hadn't considered getting him a gift and she really was not in the mood to Owl-Order him a gift for tomorrow. Honestly, she didn't know what to get him aside from Quidditch items and she knew that he would be disappointed if she didn't profess her love and admiration for him. But he would be even more disappointed if she didn't get him anything.

_'Oh, Hermione, what a dilemma you have gotten yourself into,'_ she thought, coughing quietly into her hand. Her throat was starting to bother her a bit; probably because, in spite of her love for the library, it was and would always have a stuffy air.

She should be on top of the world, she should be smiling and laughing without issue, but instead she was spending her time stressing and worrying about Ron. It just wasn't fair. Why couldn't she have some peace for even a small period of time in her life? Why did things always have to become complicated in one way or another?

Rubbing her eyes, she massaged her temples, still staring at the same page.

"What am I going to do," she whispered.

"You could always hop around naked on the lawn, proclaiming your love for Draco."

Blinking, she turned in her seat to find Luna staring at her from the end of one of the rows, smiling her usual soft, almost flowing smile. Hermione didn't know why, but when she saw Luna's smile, she always thought of a light, white dress fluttering gently in a breeze.

"I would prefer to keep my clothes on," Hermione said softly, moving to pull a chair over for Luna.

Luna gave her a knowing smile and Hermione blushed at the way the younger woman's eyes glittered with knowledge. "Even when you take a shower?"

Pausing, blinking once, Hermione suddenly snorted out a laugh at Luna's nonchalant and airheaded reply. She had done it on purpose in an attempt to get Hermione to smile and laugh.

"Thanks," she murmured, sitting back down. She watched as Luna took her seat, a book held tightly in her hands. "What brings you to the library?"

"Herbology essay," Luna replied softly, flashing the cover of the book. "I'm doing it on the properties of kurkleblooms, although it seems as though the library doesn't have much information on them." Her words ended on a sigh. "I suppose I'll have to get dad to send me some of his books."

Hermione wanted to ask what exactly kurkleblooms were but knew better than to do so. Instead, she smiled at her friend's loftiness and creativity. "You do realize that the Herbology section is on the other side."

"Oh well, I thought that since I was in the neighbourhood, I would visit."

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes at the answer. She knew better; Luna had probably crossed Draco in the halls and he most likely asked her to go to the library to find Hermione and talk to her. She knew that he was probably worried; usually she would hide away in their Tower if something was wrong, and he had most likely assumed that things were more than just wrong for her to hide away in the library.

"I guess Draco asked you to say that," Hermione said with a smile. "Honestly, that man…"

"Is worried."

Her eyes flung up to gave at Luna, wide and pained.

He was worried?

"He says that you haven't been sleeping well, been eating less, and that you haven't been smiling as much. I suppose it is true, in a way; I don't hear you laughing as often." Luna played with the end of her braided hair. "Is it safe to assume that Ron has been preoccupying your thoughts?" She didn't wait for Hermione's words, she merely continued based on her physical reaction. "I suppose it's getting closer to the time. Of course, I don't need to remind you that you have to tell him the truth; you know it already. The problem before us is how. It's obvious, isn't it? Just tell him."

Rolling her eyes at Luna's direct and childlike honesty, she let out a quiet snort. "Yes, I had that all figured out some time ago. The main problem is how to tell him. I know I have to say the words, but how do I go about doing it?"

"With the illusion that you are alone."

Arching a brow, Hermione gave Luna a mildly confused look.

"You take him off to some area that is somewhat secluded, and you make it seem like the two of you are alone. But you really have some friends – Harry, Draco, Blaise and I – hiding nearby in case something happens. I may not always seem like I see or know everything, but I do know how volatile Ron has become. You can't tell him alone, on your own. You need people to, as the Muggles say, cover your back."

"When?"

Getting up from her chair, Luna swirled towards the books. "That's for you to decide," she said quietly, disappearing in the shadows of the shelves.

At times, Luna reminded Hermione of the Cheshire Cat, always appearing to give advice then fading softly into the background, her whimsical voice following her, the words dancing to the song in her voice.

Sighing softly, she turned away and buried her face in her hands, digging her fingers into the bones just under her eyes. Pain was slowly beginning to slide down from her temples to her eyes and it irked her more than anything. This was getting to be too much on her, and she knew it. The only thing was, even though everyone was offering their assistance and support, she just couldn't find a way to break her friend's heart.

It was too painful of a thought to consider.

* * *

"Did you speak with her?'

Luna stepped out of the library, still hugging her book to her body; even though she had used it as an excuse, she actually had a Herbology essay to write. Lifting her eyes to stare at Draco, who was across the hall, leaning against the wall, she nodded.

"Of course; why would I see her without speaking with her?"

Sometimes Luna's naïve questions irritated Draco more than anything, especially when he wanted a straight answer. He, of course, was not going to say that aloud, given that she had just helped him out.

"What did she say?"

Shrugging, Luna skipped towards him in order to keep her voice hushed and avoid anyone from overhearing their conversation. "It's what she didn't say that matters most."

Rolling his eyes, he shoved his hands into his pockets and asked her to elaborate; "And I suppose that would be…?"

Smiling knowingly at Draco, her eyes twinkling in the fading light, Luna hopped on the spot. No matter how bad the news was, she always seemed to smile, if her lips were curved, her eyes were glowing, as though her mind was 'trapped' in a familiar, enjoyable world. The song that always seemed to sing with her words probably came from that same world. "She knows what to do, but she needs help. The problem is; she doesn't want to ask for it, even though she says she will. She wants to do it on her own, and that will cause problems. Stop offering your help and let her ask you; it's the only way things will work out. If you keep pushing it in her face, she will only back further away."

Some days, she sounded like some prophetic fortune teller and Draco wondered whether or not she was actually a Seer. She would make Professor Trelawney proud. He nodded to her as she began to skip away, as though she hadn't just engaged in a rather serious conversation but a discussion on puppies and all things girls found adorable. Shaking his head, he ran his hand through his hair, wondering if or when things could become relatively normal.

Turning away from the doors of the library, knowing better than to go in and interrupt Hermione, he began to walk through the halls, enjoying the cool Saturday afternoon breeze that wafted through the corridors, trying to ease his mind by counting his footsteps or glancing out of the windows to watch the snow melt in the rain.

He wasn't sure where his feet were taking him; all he knew was that he needed to find some way to think clearly. He had to assume that Luna was right; Hermione would ask for help if she needed it, and trying to get her to take his help would only make her hesitate.

Sighing softly, he rubbed the back of his neck, tilting his head back to massage and stretch out the kinks. Turning to gaze out of a window, he became lost in his thoughts and reveries, trying time and time again to find some suitable solution to the problem at hand.

It was the sound of his name that drew him out, particularly the venom in the tone of voice. Turning his head slowly, he found none other than the problem itself standing a few feet away. Draco's lips curled into a crude smile and it took all his willpower not to send Weasley flying down a few flights of stairs.

"Good day Weasel," he said flatly, not actually meaning it. It was not a good day; it would only become good once he managed to break every bone in the redhead's body. But then Hermione would get angry at him, and an angry Hermione was not one to mess with. She'd probably use some evil spell that would cause his dick to shrivel up into a raisin. Not a pleasant thought.

So instead, he continued to smirk at the Weasel, head tilted in his direction, body still facing the window. His hand, however, in the darkness of his pocket, grasped his wand firmly.

Just in case.

"Ferret."

Just that one word held all of the venom in world; yet Draco remained unfazed. He expected it from Weaselbee, who had every reason to hate the blond. He had, after all, stolen 'Weaselbee's Fated Wife.' Just the mere thought made him want to snort and his smile curved further up, grey eyes glittering with mirth and promises.

Turning now, he leaned against the wall by the window, hands still in his pockets, moving into a relaxed yet ready pose.

"You know, Weaselbee, I've been wanting to have a discussion with you for some time," Draco said softly, smile ever present.

Ron huffed and crossed his arms, standing firmly in place. He looked almost silly; so tense compared to Draco's easy pose, face turned firmly into a scowl that contrasted against Draco's smile. It was almost comical.

"What about?" he snapped. Even his voice was worlds apart from Draco's; he sounded like an angry child, ready to bitch and not listen to a word his mum said.

"I believe you know what." Draco's voice lowered, the smirk fading from his word as promises of pain slowly wove through his words.

"She's mine!" Ron almost snarled, eyes flashing angrily. He took a step forward, hands falling to his sides in tight fists. "You stay away from her!"

Moving away from the wall in an elegant manner, Draco slowly prowled, almost flowed, towards Ron to the point where he was only a few feet away. The faded smile returned, except there was no mirth in it. Only promises and threats, a certain darkness to it that revealed his darker, crueller past. It was knowledgeable, as though telling Ron that he knew a myriad of spells that could cause him eternal pain.

"I believe you are mistaken." Draco's fingers tightened on his wand as he saw in his peripheral vision Ron reaching for his pocket. "You see," he said with a soft laugh, "you are the one that should be staying away from her. You're not right, you know that? You're a little – how do those American say it? – fucked up. You see, every time you get near her, she gets hurt. So, if you were in her best interest, you would stay the hell away from her." His last words ended on a soft hiss, voice cold with malice and rage and it sent shivers down Ron's spine, although he blatantly refused to let Draco see that.

Hands shaking, Ron glared at Draco, eyes hardened with rage. "You don't know what you're talking about," he snapped. "You should stay away from her; once you started getting close, she stopped being happy. Stop manipulating her."

"That's funny," Draco laughed, "because I believe that at times, she's the one manipulating me, if you understand." He wiggled his fingers for emphasis, knowing full well in the back of his mind that Ron probably wouldn't believe him and that Hermione would give him a good smack later on. It was well deserved for messing with the mad redhead's mind.

"Liar!" Ron shouted, fist flying up to hit Draco in the face.

Draco's hand flew out, grabbing tightly onto Ron's, stopping him just a few inches away. He was secretly pleased that Ron had used his right hand; it meant that Draco's right remained free and that Weaselbee, ever so dumb, would not be able to reach his wand. Then again, in this case, he wouldn't mind a good fistfight. It would be entertaining, the repercussions wouldn't be as bad, and it would feel good to bash in the prat's face.

Digging his fingers into Ron's hand, he watched as the other man's face contorted slightly in pain as nails dug in. Draco's smile widened, eyes shimmering.

"How can you tell I'm lying?" Draco murmured softly, moving out of the way just in time to avoid Ron's second fist. Reaching out, he grabbed a hold of it too, quite pleased in the way the situation was turning out.

"Because…because I know! She's saving herself for me! You…you're just messing with me! She loves me and you're just an arse trying to get in my way!" Ron yelled, struggling to free his hands. He may have been taller, but he still lacked the strength Draco's shorter, yet tauter, body held.

Shifting his weight, Draco lowered himself just a bit before tugging Ron closer. Ducking under Ron's stomach, he curved his body and pushed up, letting go of his hands and sending the redhead flying over him to land on his back on the cold floor. Turning on the spot, he watched as Ron tried to catch his breath.

Looking down at him, Draco dusted himself off, that bloody smile back in place.

"Stay away from her, or you will have to deal with me," he promised, turning and walking away.

He suddenly spun around, ears catching the telltale sound of something being drawn from rumpled clothes. His wand was out, ready to be used as Ron shouted after him, wand drawn. "Not yet, Malfoy! Don't you dare walk away!"

"I thought that our conversation was over," Draco replied calmly, hand outstretched and unwavering. It was not the first time he had held a wand against someone and it probably was not going to be the last. It was, however, the first time he willingly held his wand against someone who was from the Order.

"It's not nearly over." Ron stumbled to his feet, wand shakily held. It was in a moment like this that one was able to determine who had more experience.

"Then please," Draco said, "finish it because I am growing rather bored."

"_Crucio!"_

_ "Expelliarmus!"_

The spells were cast simultaneously, but strength typically persevered in this kind of situation and Ron's wand went soaring into Draco's hands before Ron's spell could even reach the blond. Even then, while Ron meant it, Draco merely let out a quiet hiss of pain as only a portion of the spell managed to hit him.

Breathing through his teeth, Draco tossed the wand into a far corner, walking over to Ron. When Draco was close enough, Ron tried again for a few punches and landed, a second time, on the cold floor.

"Well, ittle wittle Weaselbee seems to know a few illegal spells, doesn't he?" He stood next to the redhead looking down at him. Always looking down at him. "I'm not going to tell the teachers on you, mainly because that was one pathetic attempt at the Cruciatus Curse. My mother could probably cast it better than you and she is quite terrible at curses." He squatted down, gently pressing his hand on Ron's throat. "However; if you dare attack me again, I will not hesitate to use any and all spell it requires to take you out. Do you understand?"

Nodding, Ron's throat worked as worry more than actual pressure on his throat caused him to feel suffocated. When Draco gently unfolded himself and stood up, Ron's eyes stayed on him and watched his every footstep until the blond was finally out of sight. Scrambling to his feet, he lunged for his wand, and stood shaking violently by the window, fingers clenched tightly around the wood.

He swore, then and there, that he would do all in his power to take out Malfoy. No matter what happened, no matter who got in his wand, he would get rid of Malfoy and be with Hermione forever and ever.

* * *

When he stepped into the Tower, he found her back again, surrounded by books and holding something he had never seen her hold in his entire life.

A magazine.

It made him smile in spite of the previous situation. Then again, making a fool of Weasel always made him smile, so one could suppose that this image simply made him smile more.

He had only pocketed his wand once he stepped in front of Aphrodite; he didn't trust Weasel and had expected the ginger prat to materialize behind him, expecting a rematch. Weasel was just that stupid and determined, and Draco was just that ready and willing to bring it on.

Stepped up behind her on the couch, removing his cloak, which he had discovered had earned a slight tear on the side from the damn, failed attempt of the curse Weasel had flung at him, he leaned over the back, pressing his lips to the back of her ear.

"What are you ready, little witch?"

She jumped in surprise and he dodged just in time to avoid having her skull make contact with his nose. She had already caused him a couple of bloody noses and he wasn't in the mood for another one.

"Malfoy!" she snapped, smacking him with the magazine. "You prat! Don't sneak up on people!"

"Then learn to pay attention to your surroundings," he sighed, crossing his arms. "Honestly, I do not walk any differently from anyone else, with a few exceptions."

"You move like a bloody snake," she hissed. "It's like you just slide in or something; start making more noise when you walk!"

"Very well, I shall take walking lessons from Goyle or Longbottom; they seem to have a lot of difficulties walking silently."

"Don't bring Neville into this."

"It's not my fault he trudges around like an angry hippopotamus!"

"And now you're calling him fat!"

He rolled his eyes, loosening his school tie. It was unfortunate that, once school started again, only Sundays were free-dress days. "No, I am merely comparing his lumbering walk to that of a hippopotamus. They are not very apt at sneaking up on people on land, and neither is Longbottom. I was not comparing their actual size." He then tsked and waggled his finger at her. "My, my, Hermione, you shouldn't make such accusations. You could really upset somebody in the future."

Instead of a pillow, a rolled up magazine hit him on the back of the head as she reached over the back of the couch. His hand flung up and grabbed said hand, pressing just enough on a pressure point to cause her fingers to let go of the item. He slid it out of her hands with a triumphant look, backing away as she shouted and half-heartedly lunged to grab it out of his hands.

"Now, now, we're having a few issues with sharing, aren't we?" he tsked again, unfolding the magazine to read the cover. "_Quidditch Monthly_? Last I knew you weren't that into Quidditch." He opened the pages, find one covered in a multitude of notes. "Ah, planning on buying some Keeper gear, are we? Since when did you join any Quidditch team?"

She reached for her wand and summoned the magazine to her, keeping it held firmly in her hands as she glared at the man she claimed to love. At times, he was so unbelievably irritating…

"If you must know, I'm looking for a reasonably priced gift."

He grinned at her, further loosening his tie so that it remained untied, yet hanging around his neck. "Well, my little witch, if you must know, you have my position wrong. I play Seeker, the equipment will probably be found on the next page. I could use a new pair of gloves…"

Sighing heavily, she sent him another glare before sitting down on the couch, turning her back to him. "If you must know," she admitted quietly after a moment's silence, "I'm looking for a birthday present for Ron."

"Weasley!" he choked out, eyes wide in shock and anger. He had just finished putting that prat in his place, telling him to stay away from Hermione, and now he finds out she's buying him a bloody birthday present! What was wrong in this world? "Why? That little bastard deserves nothing from you!"

"Yes but…"

"No buts! He bloody stalks you, goes mental on you, and then he almost kills you. And you do what? You buy him a damn birthday present? What the hell is wrong with you?" He shouted his words, arms gesticulating widely even though she couldn't see him. He suddenly wished he had strangled the redheaded bitch.

"If you must know," she said louder this time, through gritted teeth, "Harry came and spoke to me. He said," she began before Draco could go off on another tirade, "that Ron was expecting me to proclaim my love for him. That, obviously, will not happen anytime soon," she continued, turning to face him. "So, I thought that I could at least get him something small, as a token of friendship. If I ignore him, he'll just get worse or he'll keep pestering me until I finally get him something. It was the lesser of the two evils, Draco."

Huffing loudly, he crossed his arms, sending her a firm look. "It still does not mean that I approve."

"I'm not looking for your approval; I am merely stating the facts and reasons so that you don't keep shouting like an idiot."

"I was not shouting like an idiot." His lips pursed in annoyance.

She couldn't help but grin at bit at his reaction. His childish actions always managed to ease a tense situation, even if he didn't intend for it to happen. "Yes, you were. You looked a little mental."

"I suppose I have to be, seeing as I've fallen for you."

She arched a brow at him, curving her lips in a mixture of irritation and love. "You're a prat at times, did you know that?"

"Yes, you have reminded me of that on several occasions. And, in my defense, I was not shouting like an idiot but like an enraged man trying to protect his woman."

Silence followed at his words, which quickly resulted in her cheeks growing bright red as she blushed darkly. He had claimed to care for her, they had said words that hinted that they were dating, but never had he made any true claim on her. A part of her wanted to argue and say that she was no one's woman, and yet another, the deeper, instinctive part, felt honoured and embarrassed.

He slowly moved forward, leaning down to cup her cheek in his hand. "Hermione," he said softly, a stunning contrast to his earlier shouts, "I care about you. You know that?" She nodded, watching as his grey eyes shone gently in the light. "I do anything I can to protect those I care about, and there aren't many people on that list. I just want to keep you safe; I don't think I'll be able survive hearing about you getting seriously injured again. I believe I'm…falling deeper in love with you," he murmured now, leaning down to press his lips against hers in a passionate, yet soft kiss.

She wanted to speak, wanted to tell him the same thing, but all she could do was move her lips under his as slow ripples of need slid into her body and began heating her flesh. Soon enough, her hands found his hair and were digging into the soft strands, pulling his mouth harder against hers, as though she could not get enough of his kiss. His tongue slid into his mouth, dancing with hers as they deepened the kiss, his body pressing firmly against the back of the couch as she stretched to keep her mouth latched onto his.

She moved to sit up on her knees, pressing his mouth harder against hers as one of his hands grasped the back of her neck, the other moving to hold onto her shoulder. Tilting her head back, he released her lips and moved his mouth down her throat in soft, butterfly kisses that had her womb filling with liquid heat. She let out a gasping moan, fingers digging into his scalp, the mere feeling of his silky hair erotic against her fingers.

"Draco," she moaned as he suckled on her collarbone, "I…"

In one swoop, he had her lifted over the couch and her legs were quickly twined around his waist, her moist core pressed against his heated length, thin layers of clothes feeling far too thick and cumbersome.

He whispered her name, moving his mouth up to suckle her earlobe. Heat curled in her body, spreading quickly out just as his skin grew hotter with each little kiss and touch. It felt like it had been so long since they had touched, since they had caressed. His body ached and yearned, his muscles tightening with need as his fingers dug harder into her skin.

When she moaned his name a second time, any and all control he had had snapped and he spun around, finding the closest thing – the kitchen table – to press her body down against. He leaned over her, fingers moving to button her blouse, mouth following them, licking and biting at every inch of exposed flesh. She writhed under him, legs clenching around his hips, pressing his hot length harder against her wet center.

Impatient, he tore her blouse apart and roughly yanked down her bra, mouth seeking the pretty pink nipple as his right hand slid up her thigh. She let out a mewling cry as he ripped the underwear aside and slid his fingers deep into her tight pussy, curling them up to massage roughly against that little sensitive spot.

She squirmed under him, moving her hips with his fingers as hers began attempting to open his shirt. He groaned against her breast as her nails raked his bared flesh and his fingers moved harder and faster, earning several gasping cries of pleasure from her. Buttons flew to the ground to join hers as she tore the rest of his shirt – thank Circe that the tops for the uniform were thin. Her hands were all over his flesh, tracing every muscle, sliding down his scar, before one hand disappeared past the waistband of his pants, grasping firmly onto his hard length.

Moving to pleasure her other breast, he bit down on her nipple as she massaged the tip, his fingers began to spasm inside of her just as her walls began to close tightly around his digits. Suddenly, she was crying out his name, legs tightening around his waist and her juices were flowing freely down his hand. Groaning, he licked and bit at her breast, moving his fingers, keeping her locked in a state of pleasure for as long as possible.

Suddenly, his pants were down, his erection was out, and their lips locked in another heated kiss, tongues swirling, teeth biting as their hands roamed and explored each other's bodies. Flipping her skirt and ripping her underwear away, he bit down on her throat as he slid deeply into her body.

Her nails found his back, sliding under his ripped shirt to score his flesh as she screamed out his name, beginning to spasm for the second time around his hard cock. The pleasure of his mouth on her neck and his buried inside was just too much to bear and juices slid down her legs as they gushed out for the second time.

He wanted to wait, wanted to feel her rippling and tightening around him, but he just couldn't. He needed to move, needed it so much it hurt, and he began thrusting widely into her, hands sliding down to grip her hips for added support. Her hands fell from his back, reaching back to grasp the end of the table as he slid in and out harder and faster. Her hips moved up to meet his, the sounds of their groans and the wet slapping of their bodies filling the air. Her heart ached as his lungs burned, flaming butterflies of need fluttering from their stomachs and into the rest of their bodies, infecting them with unadulterated need and desire. His mouth suckled on her breast as she writhed wildly under him, crying out his name in an endless mantra.

Harder, he needed it harder, and faster, so much faster. It felt so good, her wet heat clutching and sucking onto him, trying to pull him deeper inside of her. He couldn't get enough. He could never get enough…

Her body arched up, tightening before the spasms came again, and he bit down harder onto her breast as he couldn't hold back anymore. The feel of her massaging him was too much to bear. He moved his head to beside hers, growling out her name in her ear as he filled her with his seed, listening as she let out sobbing cries of need against his throat.

He collapsed on top of her, trying to catch his breath as she heaved for air under him. Her hands fell limp, fingers dangling on the edge of the table as she tried to slow her racing heart. Gently, he managed to move away, lifting her into his arms to carry her numb body up the stairs and to his bedroom, placing her onto the bed before joining, tugging her close to him. He had somehow discarded his pants along the way and had no clue how that happened. Pressing his mouth against her hair, she nuzzled against his throat, finally able to catch her breath. Her arm flopped unceremoniously across his chest as she turned into him, draping one leg over one of his.

She reached up, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek.

"You never let me say," she whispered softly, watching as his eyes slowly opened, glittering gray staring down at her with raw love, "that I'm falling deeper in love with you too."

Gripping tightly onto her, he held her close as their bodies, ravaged by lust and desire, succumbed to satisfaction and fell into a deep slumber. A part of her, just before she closed her eyes, reminded her that she needed to find something to buy Ron. But at this moment, that nothing but a brief fleeting thought in a mind that was overflowing with love for the man in her arms.

* * *

**Here we go!**

**Chapter 14 is done! I'm glad I got it done now. **

**For the fight between Draco and Ron, I always imagined Ron as one of those wannabe tough anime kids who try to pick fights with the stronger yet more relaxed guys. Draco, I actually imagined Usui (from Kaichou wa Maid-sama!), he just moves in such a relaxed fashion, like it's nothing, and he seems to flow, which is what I imagined for Draco. Simple, basic reflexes and flowing movements that would embarrass the hell out of Ron, who tries to rely on brute strength and surprise. **

**I hope you all enjoyed it. There will be more action coming up in the next chapters! I promise! I'm not sure if this will be as long as Merry Christmas, Mr. Malfoy, but we'll see what happens. **

**Thanks for reading! You guys are amazing! **

**See you next chapter! I wonder what will happen…?**


	15. You Lost Me

**Here's chapter 15! **

**We're going to start seeing an increase in action soon. What I want to do, however, is deal with one issue (either Pansy or Ron) before the other. Want to know who gets pawned first? Keep reading!**

**Note: sorry for taking a bit to post this. I went through some very emotional and personal problems recently and had just lost the feeling of joy I normally feel while writing. Fortunately, things are a lot better now, so I'm glad.**

**Note: if you want, try reading the part where Ron and Hermione, well, do the usual, while listening to Christina Aguilera's "You Lost Me," which is where I got the title of the chapter from. "Fix You" by Coldplay, was the main song I listened to while writing out the bit at the very end and I found it went relatively well.**

**Extra little side-note: I may make a few quick changes to the Ron-Hermione scene. We shall see. Also, may be a few typos here or there, didn't get a chance to thoroughly look and I also accidentally clicked 'change' at one point when I meant for 'ignore' on spell check and can't remember for the life of me what it was. Haha.  
**

**Warning: lots of rage.**

**Chapter 15**

**You Lost Me**

"_Frendo_!"

An arm fell to the floor with a clang, the dummy rocking back and forth on its springs from the forth of the attack. The socket where its shoulder once was had been crushed, a ball of plastic and fake flesh that look disturbingly painful.

Grinning cruelly, Pansy spun around, twirling her wand in the direction of another dummy, successfully splitting open its arm, exposing its hollow exterior. If it had happened to any human being, it would have cut right through to the bone and possibly through the bone itself if it were powerful enough.

Her smile widened as she continued to move around, casting curse after curse, spell after spell, at any and all of the dummies that rose up to attempt to cease her efforts. On the other side of the Room of Requirement, Daphne, Astoria, and Maryse were seated on a couch, watching with either smiles or shock and worry. Astoria was on the edge of her seat, hands gripping her knees as a smile remained permanently plastered on her face, a cruel, and malicious grin that twisted her looks. Daphne and Maryse exchanged a small look behind Astoria's back, each knowing that Pansy was taking this way too far.

"Did you see that? Completely crushed the chest. Now, I bet that goodie-two-shoes Granger doesn't know how to stop that!" Astoria gushed as Pansy continued to cast.

Maryse and Daphne nodded, more just to avoid confrontation rather than in actual agreement. While Maryse wasn't too sure that Hermione could block it, Daphne was fairly certain that the Gryffindor was quite capable and able to block just about any spell sent her way. She was, after all, the brightest witch her age and had helped in the defeat of the Dark Lord. Rumours said that she had even killed Lucius Malfoy. Now that was a terrifying thought. If someone had been able to kill the senior Malfoy, then they could easily take on a passionate, yet weak caster like Pansy.

Daphne let out a quiet sigh, gently rubbing her face, careful to avoid her mascara. She was getting tired of Pansy's antics and really wished that the girl could see just how silly she was being. She was exaggerating things, pretending that the situation was far worse than it actually was, and she was taking this way too far. She didn't need any spells to stop anything; Daphne was fairly certain that Draco was more than willing to spend time with Granger. All Pansy needed to do was _talk_ to Draco, although it didn't seem likely that it was going to happen any time soon.

Pansy suddenly came running over, face flushed; sweat beading on her brow, with that smile always on her face.

"Did you guys see that?" she squealed, a little skip to her step. "Did you see it? Aren't I amazing?"

Maryse and Daphne quietly nodded while Astoria began gushing about how much she adored Pansy and wished to be like her, telling the girl that Granger did not stand a chance. Daphne was still fairly certain that her little sister was growing as delusional as Pansy was.

"You two aren't saying anything."

Looking up, the other two simply shrugged. "There isn't much to say," Maryse began softly with a small smile that didn't meet her eyes. "You are a wonderful witch and those spells are certainly powerful and good enough to stop Granger in her tracks."

Nodding, as though to say 'I know,' Pansy turned to face Daphne, her expression telling the girl that she demanded praise.

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Daphne cracked a couple knuckles instead out of habit. "Maryse is right, those spells certainly are powerful. But…are they necessary?"

"What do you mean? Of course they are necessary! I need to get that Gryffindor bitch off of my man, no matter what!"

Massaging her temples, Daphne exhaled softly. "What I mean is, have you tried other methods first? How about you just try talking to him. Not arguing, just plain talking, without insulting anyone. You might be able to get the gist of things through that alone."

"But," Astoria piped up, "if he is under some kind of spell, we can't take what he says as the whole truth!"

"Then steal and use some Veritaserum," Maryse suggested.

"It is a safer method, although not necessarily something I approve of," Daphne added. "You just have to make sure he doesn't _know_ he's taking Veritaserum."

Tapping a finger on the tip of her chin, Pansy paused for a moment, considering the idea and weighing the pros and cons of it. The problem was, if Draco found out she had snuck him Veritaserum, he might not talk to her again unless she convinces him that she did it for the greater good. She was fairly good at convincing people…

"I suppose it's worth a try," Pansy said after a moment.

Daphne resisted the urge to sigh in relief; she was glad that Pansy at least considered a non-violent method of figuring things out. At least with Veritaserum, he would be able to lie, despite whatever compulsions or spells Granger would have put on him. Although Daphne was always doubtful that Hermione had even considered putting some kind of spell on Draco; she just didn't seem like that type of person. She was too rule abiding.

"How do we go about stealing Veritaserum?"

Daphne turned to face her sister, answering softly, "Leave that up to me." She then got up and made her way out of the room, ignoring the mass of limbs and broken dummies that lay on the floor a few feet away. She wanted to any such scenario as much as possible. She couldn't let Pansy take this too far; she didn't care about Pansy getting in trouble, she just didn't want to live with the guilt.

* * *

He reclined on the couch, draped over it like some sort of human blanket, body relaxed, eyes shut as he basked in this moment of silence and relaxation. With the amount of school work they had recently piled on, he hadn't had a moment's rest, and now that all of his essays were handed in, all of the parchment tucked away, and the books stacked neatly on his shelves once more, he revelled in this moment of de-stress.

It was nice to spend a Sunday afternoon resting and relaxing rather than getting up early, heading to the library, and then returning with pile upon pile of books in hand.

Hearing a door gently close from up the stairs, he cracked open his eyes and watched as Hermione made her way down the stairs, a neatly wrapped package in her hands.

"So, what did you end up getting Weaselbee?" he asked.

Hermione eyed him briefly on the couch, wishing that she could join him. Unfortunately for her, that wouldn't happen until after she gave Ron his gift and avoided his touches and listened to his delusional words. Who knew how long that would take.

"A new set of Keeper gloves with a gift certificate to the Quidditch supply shop in Hogsmeade. I thought he could use it next time he heads into the village," she answered, placing the gift on the table to slide into her shoes.

He didn't bother to sit up, although a part of him wished to see her bent over her shoes, flashing him her pretty little underwear that covered one of his favourite parts of her. He was just too lazy at the moment, so he basked in the glow of memories instead. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

"I'll be fine." She stood up, picking back up the gift. She hoped that Ron liked it; she knew that he had needed new Keeper gloves for some time, had heard him complain of it often enough when she used to had a small crush on him. Now was a good opportunity to get him something he wanted, let him know that she listened, but not have him expect too much out of her. Something basic, nice, and gift that was more brother-sister in appearance than girlfriend-boyfriend.

"Last time you two got together," Draco began, sitting up this time to lean on the back of the couch, feeling as though he needed some support for his blessedly limp body, "you fell down several stories and got hurt." His eyes belied his body, while he appeared nicely relaxed, his eyes were dark and stony; grey storm clouds that whispered rage and anxiety.

She let out a soft sigh and glanced over in his direction, having slipped on her shoes. "I will be fine; Harry and Ginny will be there, too, so it isn't like we will be alone. He won't do anything; I'm certain he regrets what happened."

"Hopefully not so much that he tries doing something else he'll regret," Draco said softly, eyes hardening with rage as he looked down at his lap.

"Did you say something?"

He glanced back to her, watching as she tucked a stray strand behind her ear, curiosity etched gently into her features. He loved that look, the doe-eyed expression on her face as she yearned to find something out. Of course, just because the expression made his groin tight didn't mean that he was going to immediately respond.

"I just said," he answered, "that Weasel better not do something he'll regret."

The look in his eyes, the raw fear combined with worry and unadulterated love, it told her more than any of his words ever had. Moving over, she reached down and gently cupped his cheek, tilting his head back so he was staring up at her with his always-talking eyes. "Draco," she sighed softly, "I think he's doing enough regrettable things as it is. You don't have to worry, I will be in control. I promise."

He couldn't help but smile and let out a soft chuckle, eyes glowing ever so softly in the light. "You know, before all of this shit started, you would've just yelled at me, called me an annoying prat and stormed out."

"Well," she reached down and pressed her lips gently against his, "you are an annoying prat."

Gripping her wrist, he yanked her back down, deepening the kiss just briefly, long enough to make her heart hammer wildly in her chest and her body to tighten with need, before pulling away. He watched her lips part, breath quietly but quickly exhaling as she tried to ease her breathing. He loved making her squirm, loved the way her cheeks flushed just slightly whenever they touched, and loved the way his touch alone could make her go crazy with need.

Most importantly, he loved the look of love in her eyes when she stared at him. It was the one reason he refused to let Weasley gain the upper hand and vowed to make sure that the redhead would pay if he ever laid a finger on her again.

When his tongue darted out to play along her lips, she let out a soft, sultry laugh before gently pulling away. "Sorry Draco, but I do have a schedule to follow."

He couldn't help it; he pouted in disappointment. He had been hoping to distract her, to get her naked and on top of him again in order to avoid her meeting with the Weasel. It was just too bad that he had chosen a woman as equally stubborn and intelligent as him.

Alright, he hated to admit it, but she was smarter than him. But not by much. Only by a little bit. Very little bit.

She moved away, gathered the gift, and adjusted her sweater; it was still frigid in the castle even though it was March and the snow was melting faster with each passing day. "I'll be fine, Draco," she said, reading his look rather than listening to him rant again. She knew that he didn't want her getting hurt again, knew that he wanted her to be as careful as possible, and she knew that if Ron did anything stupid like that again, Draco would kill him.

This possessive side of Draco should have irritated her, she thought as she pressed another kiss goodbye and left the Tower, but instead it made her body hot and needy. She should hate the possession, she was one who wanted to stand strong and proud, to remain completely autonomous and not rely on somebody else. But the way he watched her, the way his eyes darkened with dominance, it made her way to do things that would've have made her blush in the past.

Now, she felt grateful that the halls were empty and cold; the cool air would help ease the warm blush from her face and chase away the hot need beginning to course through her veins. She couldn't possibly arrive at the meet spot like this; she needed her body to calm down.

When she stepped into an empty classroom near the Room of Requirement, location most likely chosen by Ron who was probably hoping she would lead him next door for some 'fun' time, she was pleasantly at ease and had completely calmed down from her earlier state.

Gripping the wrapped gift in her hands, she glanced around the corridor before opening the door and stepping into the room. It was a rarely used classroom, perhaps because the teachers didn't want the students finding the Room of Requirement for purposes other than educational, and the desks were piled in one corner, the chairs in another, all covered in a small layer of dust. However, in the center of the room was a small table of sorts set up with four chairs around it. On the table was a relatively good sized chocolate cake she knew that Molly had baked for Ron.

Sitting down already were Harry and Ginny and she was pleased to note that Ginny was seated beside her brother; however, it meant that she would be facing Ron. At least she wouldn't be stuck beside him.

Smiling, she walked up to the table and placed the gift next to Harry's before sitting down in the empty chair. "Happy Birthday Ron," she said, still smiling.

He was grinning, a simple, boyish grin that made her smile inwardly. It was a smile of someone who was on top of the world, no hint of insanity in his eyes, no look or expression of unhealthy obsession in his face. He had the look of a man on his birthday that seemed to be getting every gift he wanted.

"So," she said, looking around at the other three. "How are you? I know I haven't been able to see you guys much lately; I've been very busy with homework and Head duties."

Ron seemed to buy it; he gave a look of understanding before opening his mouth to speak; "I've been busy with homework too." She partially didn't believe him, mainly because in the past, he never once did his homework without her help, but she wasn't about to say that out loud.

Ginny nodded in agreement and Harry smiled. "Are you going to come to our first Quidditch game after winter? It's next Sunday."

She gave him a look of surprise, she knew that Quidditch started up again sometime in March, but she never really realized just how early it started up again. "Who is it against?"

"Slytherin." Ron hissed the words, as though the very thought of that House caused him some kind of pain.

Her stomach fell; if they were playing Slytherin, then that meant that Draco would want her to cheer him on. She wanted to, desperately wanted to cheer him on, but it would be incredibly difficult to do so when she was first and foremost a Gryffindor, and secondly, supposed to be keep her relationship with him under wraps.

This was going to be a little issue.

Instead, for now, she decided to focus on the present. Once the song was sung and the cake half eaten, the group decided it was time to pass around their gifts. Harry and Ginny had gotten Ron some more Chudley Cannon's stuff, a sweater and a few collector's items that Hermione knew Harry had paid for.

Ron watched her with expectation as she pushed her gift towards him. It was the first inkling that something wasn't clicking right in his brain; the look was possessive, but not the same kind as Draco's. Draco's was hot, sensual, and erotic, it was a look that told her he would fight for her, that she was his and he would always be hers. The look in Ron's eyes, however, was raw possession. A look that said she was his, only his, and that no matter what she said or did, it would have no impact on it. In his mind, they were fated to be together.

In Draco's mind, fate had nothing to do with it.

He slowly unwrapped the present, taking his sweet precious time, as though he had been waiting for this for the longest time. She watched him, knowing that he would have a look of disappointment on his face the second he opened the box and did not find some kind of lingerie or dirty note of sorts. She knew that he wanted her to gift him with her eternal love, but it just wasn't going to happen.

The disappointment came quickly when he found the gloves and the gift certificate; she was expecting it, knew that the expression was definitely going to find its way across Ron's face, but the look still hurt in spite of her mental preparations.

It bothered her that he was so disappointed; a part of her was furious and insulted; the prat should be grateful she even gave him a gift at all. Hell, it only reminded her that Draco was right; considering the way he'd been acting lately, he probably didn't deserve it. But he was still her friend and she still cared for and loved him like a brother, so in spite of his actions, out of love for him, she got him a gift.

Now all he could do was stare at it with scowling eyes and a frowning face, as though he had been expecting a diamond encrusted broom made of the finest gold.

Another part, however, was almost fearful. What _had_ he been expecting, exactly, as a gift from her? Had he really wanted her to pop out of a box naked, proclaiming her love and need for him? Or had he been hoping for some racy lingerie set she would offer to model for him later that evening? Both scenarios, along with others of the same nature, made her stomach twist with nausea.

The only person she would ever do that for was Draco, although even for him, she wouldn't jump out of a cake naked. It was just tasteless, albeit funny to watch.

So, she was less surprised when she heard Ron's, "Oh…thanks," when he pushed the gift aside, the scowling expression ever present on his face.

Next to her, Harry exchanged a glance with Ginny, as though he too had been expecting it, but had not been expecting such an overly childish reaction. Disappointment, yes, they knew it was going to happen, but the expression of a five-year-old not receiving the G.I. Joe he wanted for his birthday…that was something they hadn't anticipated.

"Those are very nice Keeper gloves," Ginny said lightly, as though to try to show how thoughtful the gift was. "Aren't they the newest ones available?"

Catching on quickly, Hermione smiled slightly. "Yes, they are. I had to order them ahead of time; made of really nice dragon leather, top of line. I got a bit lucky; they were having a sale for students at the Quidditch supplies store in Hogsmeade, so they weren't as expensive."

"How much is the gift certificate for?" Harry asked, trying to get Ron to speak up about his gifts.

"50 Galleons," Ron answered quietly, barely glancing at the paper.

"Well," Ginny huffed lightly, "I think it's a nice gift, Hermione."

Her grin stayed in place and she shifted in her seat for comfort. "Thank you, Gin." Suddenly, an awkward silence fell over the room. It was strange, having this little gathering in silence. Normally, they would be talking avidly about a whole slew of things, now; instead, the threesome spent their time watching and examining Ron's actions as he stared glumly at his plate. They wanted to talk, wanted to laugh and have fun, but it was difficult to do so with Ron and his ever-changing moods. They had, also, grown apart slightly in the past while. However, Hermione knew that it wouldn't stop them from catching up. She really hated to admit it, but it was Ron, plain and simple, that caused such awkward silences.

Clearing her throat, she plastered the smile back to her face and turned to look at Ron. "So, what else did you get for your birthday?"

He glanced up at her and a strange expression crossed his face, something she just couldn't pinpoint. It was unknown, peculiar, and something she had never seen before in her entire life. It was somewhat a cross between desire, disappointment, and annoyance with something else added into the mix.

It confused her, to say the least.

"Oh, the usual," he answered, still keeping eye contact with her, "mum and dad sent me a sweater and sweets, Hagrid also gave me some treats, it was the usual."

She really didn't like the tone of his voice; it was slowly making her hackles rise and her frustration to boil up. Honestly, couldn't he be grateful for one bloody thing? Instead, he talked about his gifts like he expected the whole world and received a pile of shit in return. Was her gift so bad that he had to talk about the others in a demeaning manner as well?

"Ron," she suddenly said, voice sharper than she intended it to be.

He glanced up at her only to look back down at his empty plate, staring at the chocolate crumbs with a sulking expression.

"Oh, you're such a prat," she snapped. "We bloody well work our arses off to get you some nice birthday presents, we spend our money on your because we care about, your mum works her bloody butt off making you a sweater and sweets, and all you can do is sulk like a child?"

Harry glanced over to her, eyes wide with shock. He knew that what Ron was doing was rude, but he hadn't thought that it bothered Hermione so much. "Hermione," he began softly yet with a warning tone, stopping when she sent him a sharp look.

His expression quickly changed from glum to dark and angry, eyes flashing with anger. "Well, maybe if people got me what I bloody well wanted, then I wouldn't be so disappointed then."

Harry placed a hand on her arm, as if attempting to placate her and stop her from snapping, but she was growing far too annoyed right now. Maybe it was because of her lack of sleep, maybe it was because of this particular time of the month, or maybe it was because she was in love with a man who was grateful for every little thing he received, but she was angry at Ron's reaction and wasn't about to back down just yet.

Harry tried to say her name again, try to get her to cam down, yet she just shrugged off his touch and sent another glare his way. He knew then that she needed this; the circles under her eyes were pronounced, the tension in her body obvious, and he knew, somehow, that she had been keeping this rant hidden from the rest of world. This anger, this frustration, it had gotten to the boiling point and she needed to find a way to release it. As much as it frustrated him to watch Ron get chewed out, he knew that Hermione needed to do this. He just hoped Ginny would understand.

"What you wanted? You're lucky you got anything at all, with the way you've been acting lately," she said sharply. "And what exactly did the Almighty Ronald Weasley think he deserved to get on his birthday?"

Ron's fist banged down on the table, causing Ginny to jump in surprise. She slowly moved her chair away from her brother, as though fearful he might lash out at her unintentionally. She wanted to calm him down, wanted to bring back the brother she used to know, but she knew that right now, it wasn't going to happen. She wanted to be angry with Hermione for causing this, wanted to shout at her friend, but she too had been growing frustrated at Ron's sudden mood. It _was_ insulting. There was also this little part of her, distant and hidden beyond the irritation, that maybe this is what Ron needed to get a reality check and go back into his old self.

She could always hope.

"You were supposed to declare your love for me!" he shouted. "You were supposed to show up, not give me anything, and then wait for us to be alone and we were supposed to…supposed to…" he broke off, face flushing with embarrassment.

Her cheeks blushed with anger. "I've told you already, it's too late. You missed your chance, so stop pining for something you can't and won't get. You took me for granted for far too long, Ron. You're a brother to me and nothing more, maybe less now given the way you've been treating me lately. I'm not some bitch who will fall in love with you on some whim, I'm a human being who wanted to be treated like a human being. Instead, you treated me like a bloody dictionary or answer key for so long I got fed up of waiting."

"We're soulmates!" he banged his fist on the table a second time and his plate went flying to the ground, crumbs sprinkling all over the dusty floor.

"We are _not_," she said calmly, eyes ablaze. "We are far from soulmates. I told you, you lost your chance a year ago and you've ruined any others in the past few months. What makes you think I'd even consider dating you given the way you've been acting recently? And now this! Being an ungrateful prick after all of this work these people have done getting you gifts. I can't possibly be with someone as ungrateful as you are!"

"Who then?" he snapped, swinging his arm violently, sending the box of gifts flying to land unceremoniously beside the crumbs. "Who is good for you? Malfoy?"

"Who said anything about Malfoy?"

"He…He attacked me in the hall yesterday, threatening me and telling me not to touch you again!" Ron shouted, knowing full well that he was lying about the events. "He just came out of nowhere, said he would kill me! He tried to use an Unforgivable on me!"

She jerked back, pushing away at the anger to try and find some sense in his words. Draco was protective, yes, but she never thought that he would be the one searching for trouble. A part of her believe Ron, the part that still didn't completely understand and know Draco, and yet another part refused to believe his words. It just didn't seem like him. In spite of his history, even though he used to enjoy finding and creating trouble, she knew that Draco had matured into an intelligent man who wanted to avoid trouble as much as possible. He wanted to create a clean slate; chasing after Ron and causing fights in the halls would only further tarnish his cleaner reputation. She also knew how Draco felt about the Unforgivable Curses.

When she saw the redhead's eyes dilate and his ears grow red, she knew for certain that he wasn't telling the whole truth.

"Liar," she hissed.

"I…I'm not lying!"

"Yes you are," she snarled. "I can tell when you lie, it's so obvious. You just want me to get angry at someone else and forget about what you've said and done." Slowly, she stood up, looking down at her friend, perhaps ex-friend. "I can't. You've been such an ungrateful prat lately and I'm sick and tired of it. All you do is look down on everything and everyone, you won't let anyone near you, you ignore their efforts to make you happy and see you smile. You're not the Ronald Weasley I once knew and loved. Not anymore."

His face blushed a vivid vermilion and she watched as his hands clenched and unclenched into tight fists, as though they ached to be wrapped around her throat, squeezing the life out of her.

"I'm still the same person," he snapped. "You're the one who's changed. You never spend time with us anymore, you never help me with my homework, you barely even speak to me. You're the one who's different, Hermione. Not me. You did this yourself."

Harry had moved to stand to and Hermione saw his hand sneak into his pocket, knowing that he was getting prepared in case Ron – or even she – did something that he would regret. He didn't want it to come down to violence, but Harry couldn't put it past Ron to try something stupid. Again.

Ginny, all the while, stared white-faced at the arguing duo. She had never actually seen such a volatile fight before, never once witnessed the reason behind Hermione's moving away from them. Now, she could only gaze at her brother with fear and confusion. Who was this man that was once her brother? What had happened to him? She knew that he had changed, but she had never seen such rage in his eyes before. When had it gotten so extreme? She thought he had been merely delusional but this…this wasn't even her brother anymore.

Taking in a slow deep breath, Hermione calmed herself, clearing her mind and relaxing her body. She was getting sick and tired of these fights with Ron; that was the main reason why she had nothing to do with him anymore. She needed to end it, needed to clarify things for the git and make him understand why she couldn't stand to be in the same room as him anymore. It hurt her to do it, but she knew that now, she had no choice.

"Ron, why do you think I never spend time with you anymore? Have you ever considered that maybe something you're doing is pushing me away? That's exactly what's happened," she answered coldly, needing a change in voice, a change in tone and atmosphere to smooth the fiery rage boiling over. "_You_ pushed me away Ron, You and your words, your actions…every little thing you've said and done in the past few months have pushed me away. I got tired of your obsessive behaviour, I'm fed up of the fighting, and I'm certainly sick and tired of being told who I love and who I should belong with.. I'm my own woman, I make my own decisions, and I'm not going to stick around anymore to listen to a delusional twat rule my life. You're the reason behind this. You lost me, just as I've lost the friend I once loved." She couldn't help it anymore, the words, the realization that struck her blind as she spoke them, caused tears to well up in her eyes and threaten to overflow. Her cheeks were hot with rage and despair; she lost her friend. Had truly, utterly and completely lost the man she once and briefly loved.

He stared at her open-mouthed, as though the words had struck a chord deep within his soul. He heard the words, knew their meaning, but a part of him refused to acknowledge them as the truth. It hurt too much.

Pressing his face into his hands, he dug his nails into his skin, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to make some sense. She…she had to be lying. That was the only way. She was lying to him, not telling the truth…omitting things or exaggerating. It just…it just didn't make any sense. It couldn't make sense.

Maybe she was playing hard to get…she was taking it too far, but maybe that was it. Maybe, she wanted to get him angry and then they would shag mercilessly in the Room of Requirement. Maybe she liked it like that, nice and rough.

Yeah…that made sense. She was a masochistic little bitch, wanted him to teach her a lesson. He would…he would show her what a real man was like. He would make her his bitch.

He couldn't fight back the grin that crawled over his face.

_You lost me._

The smile faded as quickly as it came; no…no, no, no. He couldn't have lost her. It was impossible. The words, they hurt. They hurt so much. He didn't lose her, never lost her. Right? Right. It was impossible.

He didn't lose her. Couldn't have lost her.

Right?

With a guttural shout, he stood up, sending the table crashing over onto the ground with his hands. He wanted to lunge at her, wanted to take her throat in his hands and crush it until the life faded from her eyes. He couldn't…he wouldn't…not yet. He had…had to make her his.

"You're a bitch," he snarled, spittle flying from his mouth. Insanity had claimed him, his eyes were storms caught under a plastic shield, a fog or a glaze covering them, preventing them from seeing anything but his all-consuming rage and nonsensical thoughts. "You're nothing but a stupid little bitch. Stop playing fucking hard to get and just tell me the truth. I know you want me, I know you want me to fuck you like the whore you are. Just fucking say it already and I'll do it right here and right now." He took a step forward, crushing the card she had gotten him with his foot. "Come on, Hermione, just say it. Just tell me you want me; I know you do. You're such a filthy whore."

Ginny's chair clattered to the floor as she stood in shock, eyes wide and fearful of her brother. He wasn't the same…he needed help…he really did need help…

How? How could this have happened? How could they have not seen just how far gone he was? How could they have been so blinded by their love and compassion for him?

Harry moved, as though ready to position his body between the quarreling twosome, but Hermione moved quickly first, pushing him out of the way.

_Smack!_

Ron jerked back violently as the palm of her hand made contact with his face, leaving a burning, red mark on his cheek.

The tears overflowed freely now, scalding her hot cheeks, sliding down her throat to moisten the material of her shirt. "You bastard," she choked out. "You bloody bastard. How could you? We used to be best friends! We loved each other! And now…now you're calling me those foul names! I never really said anything at all lately, never once said anything bad to you. I just wanted you to turn back into your old self. Well, you know what? Fuck you Ron. I'm tired of this, I can't stand it. I…I don't want you in my life at all anymore. I'm fed up." Turning around, hands clenched tightly at her sides, she swallowed thickly. "Goodbye Ron. Take some time alone to think; maybe it'll clear your mind. But I won't have anything to do with you anymore until you change."

She moved to the door and he was too shocked and hurt to stop her, to even think of stopping her. She had crushed his heart right before his very eyes, had torn it out of his chest and had ripped it to shreds while callously laughing at him.

It hurt.

"Happy birthday Ron," she said softly as she reached the door before slipping out of the room and out of his grasp.

Heaving loud, heavy breaths, Ron felt tears sliding down his cheeks, burning and angry. His heart ached and hammered furiously against his ribs and his chest felt tight, as though he just couldn't get enough air into his lungs.

It hurt.

It hurt so much.

No…

No, no, no, no….no!

She couldn't walk out, just couldn't. They were soulmates, they were meant to be together. She just smacked him because she liked it rough.

That's all.

Mustering up enough courage, even though a little part of his brain told him not to do it, he inhaled deeply and shouted, "You'll be back! We're meant to be together, bitch! You'll be fucking back!"

* * *

It was silent; he lounged comfortably on the couch, enjoying the sound of silence occasionally broken by the crackling flames on the hearth. From time to time, a soft _swish_ would sound out as he turned the page, eyes trained on the text scrawling over the pages. He waited as such, in soothing yet tense silence, hoping for her to return sooner rather than later, and in a better mood than he thought she would be in.

He shifted slightly, tucking one arm under his head as a pillow while the other held the book to his face. It was quite an enjoyable story, actually. It wasn't one of those fancy, frilly, girly romances Hermione seemed so embarrassed to be enthralled in, no, it was a man's book, of warriors, assassins, war, and death, with the faintest undertone of romance.

A real manly man's book for the manliest of all manly men, Draco Malfoy.

He was chuckling to himself over his thoughts as the door swung open and he didn't need to look up to know it was Hermione; her scent immediately permeated his senses, blossoming flowers and rainfall.

"How did it go with the Weasel?"

He heard her take off her shoes, listened that they thudded against the carpeted floor. "Fine."

The hairs on his neck stood on end at the tone of her voice and his eyes immediately hardened, drawn away from the book and to her silhouette, body half-cast in shadows from the faint embers and fading sunlight. Her head was down, curls wild and hiding her face from his view. Her body was stiff, arms tense at her sides, and his suspicions were solidified.

Something had happened.

"Hermione…?" He didn't want to press her, didn't want her to recoil and hide back within her shell. "What did Weaselbee…say about your gift?" he wanted to say _do_, but knew that it might be too much. He went for an alternative, something that might, eventually, lead the topic of conversation towards what had happened.

She didn't answer, only stood there, looking at her feet, hair swinging softly around her face from a slight shift in stance.

Sitting up, putting his book down on the table, he found himself suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to protect and harm. Never before had he seen her in such a state, he has seen her rant and rave, cry and despair, laugh and smile, but never had he seen a body looking so…forlorn and broken, like a piece of her soul had been permanently shattered. His body tensed; he wanted to find Weasel and rip the redhead apart, molecule by molecule. He wanted to make that little, insufferable prat suffer for making her suffer, wanted to have him begging and crying for mercy. He wanted to make that bastard pay.

Yet at the same time, he wanted to move over to Hermione an engulf her in his arms, hold her tightly in his embrace as she cried out all the woes of the world, as she yelled about all of the frustrations in the galaxy, and laughed with all of the joy in the Universe.

All he could do, however, was sit and watch her, sit and wait for her to react on her own. She needed that; it would help her find some sense of closure, it would help her find the pieces and slowly put them back together.

"Hermione," he said softly, slowly getting up, moving to stand against the back of the couch, ready if she needed him.

"You were right." Her words were mumbled and choked, as though she had a difficult time merely processing them.

_About what?_

The words hung unspoken in the air and she felt further compelled to answer them.

"You were right," she repeated softly, still watching her feet. "You were right about…about…" her hand moved up, brushing against her cheek, "about Ron."

His heart wrenched painfully; she was crying. She was crying and didn't want him to know, didn't want him to worry. He wanted to trap her in his arms and protect her from all of the world's pains and troubles. Wanted to hold her for all eternity and keep her smiling and happy, to take away all of the aching pain and lonely despair in her heart.

"He was," she began, "such a prat. He…he didn't like anything we got him, said that we didn't get him what he wanted. Then he…he spewed the same…shit…that he's been saying for the past few months." She quietly described what Ron had expected as a gift, and Draco's muscles tightened with barely restrained rage. He wanted to find the bastard and pummel his face in unable no one would recognize him again. "So," she continued, interrupting his thoughts, "I…I yelled at him. Told him he was being a selfish prat, put him in his place, I suppose."

His heart ached for the pain in her voice.

Slowly, she lifted her head and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her swollen eyes, hot tears flowing freely down her burning cheeks. Her lips quivered mercilessly, as though unable to push back the pain overwhelming her body, as though she was fighting the urge to scream and cry.

"You were right…he…he's really not the same anymore. There…there's something wrong with him. I tried not to see it, tried so hard to see the same Ron I've always seen, but now…now it's painfully clear." The sobs were quiet, barely audible, but there nonetheless, and it began to tear his heart to shreds. To see her so broken, so distraught…it hurt.

"I hoped that it was just a phase, that maybe he was going through a rough patch and things would get better. I was hoping that he would've been really happy with his gift; I know he always needed new gloves. But instead…instead he's become…broken. Something isn't right, he isn't the same Ron Weasley I cared about. He's…cruel and delusional…he's…Oh, Draco, it hurts." She looked at him, face contorting with each sob. "He used to be my friend, used to be so nice, so caring in spite of his faults, and now…now…he's not my friend anymore."

He moved then, striding forward to wrap his arms tightly around her trembling body as she sobbed freely, tears wetting his shirt, hands clutching at the material as though she clung on for dear life. He kept his arms tight, hands moving to rub her lower back in a soothing manner as he lowered his head to kiss her hair.

It hurt to watch her hurt, it made him want to cry, to scream, and to get revenge on the one who caused such pain. For now, all he could was hold her and soothe her, to give her the gentle touches and caresses that would ease away the pain. He knew no words of consolation; had never been taught any, and he knew that saying things would be okay would only succeed in ticking her off. So he held her as she cried her heart out, wishing he could do something that would alleviate the ache.

"I…I hate that you were right," she choked against his shirt, hiccoughing as she spoke. "I had hoped that…that you would be wrong, that there wasn't something wrong with him…I had hoped…"

He hushed her, the sound barely a whisper and he held her tighter, trying to siphon away all of the pain, to suck it into his body and give her nothing but joy.

All he could say was, "I'm sorry…"

_"Light will guide you home, and ignited your bones, and I will try to fix you." _– Coldplay; "Fix You"

* * *

**So there we go. This chapter is complete and hot damn, what an emotional roller coaster!**

**I have to say, it by chance that I started listening to "Fix You" when writing the exchange between Hermione and Draco, and I found myself listening to it on repeat with one listen to "The Scientist" as well. **

**Little mini disclaimer: "Fix You" belongs to Coldplay and I merely used one little section of their lyrics a little closing line, and not for any monetary benefits of any kind. **

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed it. **

**Just to send a little spam, KittyRin made a wonderful video/trailer for Merry Christmas Mr. Malfoy. You can find it here: **(dot)com/watch?v=Dhhtex7ABbA

**Replace the (dot) with a . obviously, haha.  
**

**She worked really hard on it and I really like it, so please leave her a comment! ^.^**

**Thank you everyone for your patience and reviews. You guys are wonderful! Keep it up and I promise you, I will always be working in some way or another on a chapter for this or another fic. **

**Thanks everyone!**

**Take care,**

**Emerald-Kisses**

**Quick question: does anyone want a recipe at the end of the next chapter? Just curious. I have a few good fall-oriented/Halloween-oriented ones. **


	16. The Shattering

**Note: slight change I've made in the previous chapter. When they talked about their next Quidditch game, it was not in one week, but three. **

**Another note, yes I know...this kind of sounds like WoW's "The Shattering" but suck it up. I'm also sorry for the delay; I've been very busy with life, what with essay after essay and test after test. I was always working on doing NaNoWriMo, but I ran out of time to write due to a huge essay due next week, so I kind of gave up on it.**

**So, I apologize for the wait, but here it is.  
**

**Chapter 16**

**The Shattering  
**

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

"With me? What the hell is wrong with her? Did you just see that?"

"Yes, I saw it! I saw _you_ being an insufferable prat and _her_ finally putting you in your place!`

A leg stretched out, foot making harsh contact with a fallen chair. Ron glared down at his feet, wanting nothing more than to chase after her and make her see the truth. Harry was wrong; something was wrong with her. He knew it.

"Ì am not an insufferable prat," Ron snapped, glaring up at Harry, who stood on the other side of the broken table, green eyes flashing with rage. Ginny stodd off the side, uncharacteristically quiet, as though she needed to watch the scene unfold in order to understand it better.

"Yes, you are. Sometimes you just…oh bloody hell," Harry cursed, running a hand through his permanently unruly hair. "Honestly, what did you expect her to do? Show up in her underwear and give you a lap dance?"

"Something along those lines, yes!" Ron kicked at a fallen plate, sending more crumbs skittering across the floor.

"Then you're bloody mental." Harry then began to pace, the frustration building up and threatening to flood and overwhelm him to the point where he might do something he'd regret. He had to push it back, had to take a moment to think before trying to rationalize with his friend long enough for the redhead to calm down. "Ron, Hermione isn't like that at all. You know that."

"I know," the redhead replied sharply, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I know that, but…fuck, shouldn't she give me what I want for my birthday? It's my bloody birthday!"

"She gave you what she thought you wanted," Harry answered, voice slowly increasing in volume. "She knew you needed new Keeper gloves and it was nice of her to get you a gift certificate on top of it. Can't you just be grateful that she got you _something_?"

"She didn't get me what I wanted!" Another plate when flying across the floor.

"Then try making more reasonable gift ideas!" Harry kicked at the table as the aggravation built up. "Don't start expecting her to show up, barely dressed and ready to give in to your desires! She wouldn't do that for anyone, not even the person she loves!"

"She loves me, she would do it for me!"

"She does _not_ love you, Ron!"

The men turned to find Ginny standing near the front of the room, body stiff and trembling with barely restrained rage. Her face was flushed with anger and her eyes glowed with tears.

Ron slowly closed his mouth that had opened in shock, swallowing thickly before readying his response. "What?"

"You heard me, she doesn't love you," Ginny snapped. "She did, she used to, but you treated her like shit and chased her away." Her arms began gesticulating wildly, eyes burning with fire. "She used to want to be with you, but now things are different. Things change, people change, Ron. She doesn't love you anymore at all, maybe as a brother, but I doubt she'd even feel that way about you after your childish behaviour just now."

Ron's mouth opened and closed for a moment, giving him the appearance of a shocked fish. Harry couldn't help but grin, mainly inwardly. He had been waiting for Ginny to snap and if anyone, aside from Hermione, could put Ron in his place and maybe unearth the old Ron, it was Ginny.

"You're lying! That's not true at all; she loves me!"

"Why do you keep telling yourself that?" She unconsciously waved her wand, causing a nearby wastebasket to explode in a flurry of forgotten papers. "She doesn't love you and probably won't love you ever again after today. Learn to understand that people have free will; they choose who they want to love and can't make anybody else love them! She made a choice, just like you did. You choose to ignore her affection, and she chose to take it back and find somebody else to give it to, somebody who will appreciate it more than you did."

"I…I did appreciate it…"

"You did _not_. You barely gave her the time of day; you used her for school work, used her for her brains, and never once thanked her. Did you ever think of that? Maybe the only reason she stuck around so long was because she was infatuated with you. Now, she can't stand you because she's realized how much of an arse you are." She kicked at several papers on the ground, sending them fluttering in the air.

"You're wrong! She did and does love me! I know it; I can see it in her eyes. She even got me a present!"

"That you basically compared to a pile of shit. Don't you think that hurts? She goes out of her way to find you a gift, to get you something nice, just like the rest of us, and you act like it's the worst gift in the entire world! How do you think she feels? Like shit, just the way you've been treating her this whole time!"

"No…no. She should have just gotten me what I wanted, then I wouldn't have been so upset. I…I was happy, I just…" he began to fumble for his words, trying to make sense, trying to fight back as much as he could.

"Bollocks!"

His eyes widened at his sister's words and his mouth opened, ready to retaliate, when she cut him off.

"No, shut your bloody mouth for five minutes and fucking listen! You were happy until you opened her present, then you became some selfish git who didn't get what he wanted and was about to throw a bloody tantrum! I know you used to be a right prat at times, but now it's just…it's too much." Her voice was growing louder with each word, face redder and eyes brighter. Harry jerked involuntarily, wishing he could move towards her, but knew that she would just push off his touch. When she got angry, she didn't like bodily contact. "Before," she continued, "you wouldn't have cared. You would have been so happy to just get a nice gift, and she got you a really nice present. But now, you're expecting too much and wanting the wrong things. Have you ever once considered how _she_ feels? Have you?"

Shame filled his eyes at her words. "Well, of course I have," he answered, trying to gain some kind of strength to fight back. "I know that she loves me and wants to be with me, I know that she'll only be happy with me." A while ago, those words would have been forcefully spoken with true ardor and belief. Now, however, they were half-mumbled, spoken as though even the speaker was beginning to doubt them.

It was a sign that Ginny's and Hermione's earlier words were making an impact on his delusional mind. They were breaking through.

"Look, Ron," she said, voice calmer now that she finally saw his brief realization, "you need help. You're not yourself; something happened to you during the war. I don't know what, maybe somebody hit you with a curse, but you've been different since the end of the war and it's only gotten worse. You _need help_. You can't keep going on like this; you're pushing everyone away. Bill and Charlie are almost ashamed of you after what you've done, Mum is really upset, and Hermione wants nothing to do with you anymore. Do you realize why? Don't you realize that you're the one who's doing all of this, not anyone else?"

"We've been trying to help you," Harry said softly, sending a brief look to Ginny. "We've been trying to cheer you up, to get you to think straight, but you just don't. It's like you refuse to listen to a word we say and it's insulting for us and also stressful. We're tired of seeing you lose it, we're fed up of listening to you shout and cry. Break out of this fucked up world you're in and try to think clearly." He took a step forward, reaching out to press his hand against Ron's shoulder in a brotherly, soothing manner. "You need help, and we're here for you. Maybe, if you get enough help, Hermione will come back and, maybe, she'll forgive you."

Ron's eyes suddenly welled with tears and he glanced quickly to Harry. "She's angry at me, isn't she?"

"That's putting it lightly," Ginny snorted, moving over to them with her arms crossed under her breasts, wand stuck in her ponytail.

"But…but…I thought that she and I…I thought that we were meant for each other. Shouldn't that mean that it shouldn't matter what I do, that she'll love me anyway?" He was grasping at straws now, trying to find something that would make sense that would help strengthen his suddenly crumbling world. "We're meant to be!"

Harry shook his head, sympathy etched in his face. "I'm afraid not, Ron. She doesn't love you like she used to. She's changed; she grew up, and moved on. She'll find someone else, and so will you Ron. But, you want to at least be her friend again, don't you? If you do this, if you start getting help, then she might at least be your friend again." The words were a promise Harry knew he couldn't keep, but he needed to say something that might convince Ron to understand and agree. Ron's mind had become frail, a delicate world surrounded by heavily fortified delusions, and it hurt them to see Ron so lost, so psychologically broken. He may have once been immature, hell, he would always be immature, but this…this was not Ron.

"So…so if I change, if I fix myself…Hermione will come back to me?"

There was so much hope in his voice, so much need, that it burned Harry's heart and made Ginny's stomach tighten uncomfortably. They knew that the chances of it happening now were slimmer than before, but they also knew that Hermione had always been loyal to her friends.

"Maybe not right away," Harry answered honestly. "But, you have to know she might not come back at all for a very long time."

"Not good enough!" Ron shut his eyes tightly, trying to push the negativity out of his mind. "That's not good enough!"

"If you want her to come back," Ginny snapped, "then you need to make some goddamn changes. You can't force her to come back, but you can convince her by changing. You need to see Madame Pomfrey and maybe a PsychWitch."

"You have to start pulling your weight around if you want this to work out between you and Hermione," Harry added. "So far, you've just been ordering her to love you, telling her she had no choice and that it was fate. Things don't work like that Ron. If two people want to be in a relationship, they both need to work together in order to make things work. You've doing the exact opposite of that, Ron."

"But…but…"

"No buts, Ron. This has gotten too far. We've dealt with this so far, but it's too much. We won't be able to stand much more it either; you need help. How many times do we have to say it?" Harry reached and grabbed Ron's shoulders, squeezing them tightly, fighting the urge to shake him in order to wake him from his delusional world. "Snap out of it and get some bloody help!"

Ron lifted his head, eyes shinning in the light as he met Harry's gaze. Tears swirled to the surface, pushing away all fog of mental deceit, fighting back all of the delusional shadows that threatened to overwhelm his world. His face contorted, lines deepening, expression twisting as despair began to truly take hold. Tears poured free as his breathed hitched and heaved with every sob.

He clung to Harry as he cried, a naïve part of him wishing that his mother were here to comfort and console him the way she used to when he was young. He felt Ginny's hands reached out and gently rub his back and the mere, consoling touch broke his heart.

"What's…what's wrong…with me?" he sobbed, finally completely and utterly breaking down.

Harry dragged Ron to his body as Ginny moved closer, wrapping the man in their soothing embrace. Closing his eyes, Harry fought back wave after wave of pain.

"I don't know, Ron," he whispered softly.

"I…I'm going to get help…" the redhead choked. "I…I need to…I want…I want Hermione back…I have to…to tell her I'm s…so…sorry…"

"She'll listen," Ginny murmured.

They held him there as he sobbed out his broken heart, trying to comfort him, trying to help him put the pieces of his damaged mind back together again. Relief swam through them at the knowledge that he was finally seeing clearly, that he was more than willing to get the help he needed, but it was pushed back, hiding behind the pain of their hearts as they watched him crumble and fall apart.

Dimly, they wished that things could be the way they used to be.

* * *

The saying goes that everything gets better with time. Time gives one a period in which they could heal, where they could spend moments alone, consumed in their thoughts as they pushed back every unwanted memory into a small vault somewhere at the back of the mind. Time was something that enabled one to unwind; they could take a moment and breathe, collect the chaos and reorganize it into order, and then they would be able to see clearly.

Time healed, it helped, it enabled the broken pieces to be put back together again and let the glue settled in place.

She knew that time could only do so much, that the more she took, she more she felt like she was running away. But it helped to have and take time.

Three weeks had passed. Three long, yet fast, weeks had slid by without a single notice. Each day felt the same, the only difference being the order of classes. Every test she wrote out mechanically, spewing out piece after piece of information, while on each assignment, she merely wrote until her hand cramped and the quill refused to budge any further. Her mind was drawn away from the passing time, her thoughts focused on things more important than what day of the week it happened to be or whether it was seven in the morning or afternoon.

This focus, the attention paid to her thoughts, helped her finally sort through things to come to several conclusions.

Before, she wouldn't have believed that time could be healing; now, she could be easily listed as a 'believer.' Time really did, at the very least, help in the healing process.

She sat in the Common Room one Friday evening – she began to recognize the days of the week once the majority of the chaos had been dealt with – and had to admit, she had never felt better. Ron was slowly becoming a mere blip, a mere memory that she wished to push away, even the happier thoughts; it harder to remember the pleasant memories than to remember the painful ones. She was pleased with herself, glad that she had been able to deal with such a painful ordeal, although she had to admit that Draco had been more than helpful on more than once occasion.

Too many times in the first initial week had she been forced to lean on him, too many nights had she lain in his arms, tears streaming down her face. Now, after three painful weeks, she would cry no more, would no longer feel too weak to stand on her own. She would forget the pain in her heart and continue to live her life.

So she sat, crossing her legs Indian style for added comfort, on the sofa, unconsciously leaning slightly on the blond lounging beside her. Honestly, the man never once just sat, he had to lounge, to seem to flow with the shape of the sofa. Across from them, sitting on the sofa Hermione had transfigured from one of the chairs, were a couple that seemed as unlikely as her and Draco.

"If I recall, you promised me you would tell me how you two managed to get together," Draco had said to Blaise Zabini, which had instigated a rather lengthy tale of how he and the younger blonde beside him had somehow fallen in love. It had been somewhat complicated, what with Luna's random bits about lunar alignments and how, since she had been wearing the appropriate colours for her zodiac sign and had witnessed two Snarfurgles engaging in a mating dance that day, it had seemed very much certain that she would find a 'second-half' that day.

Blaise had kept it relatively simple, they had bumped into each other at Diagon Alley over the summer and had begun talking about a range of subjects, from the war to post-Hogwarts gossip, and how they felt about returning back to 'normal' in the Fall. The next time they spoke again had been in the library when they had been paired for a Defence Against the Dark Arts assignment and things moved rather quickly after that.

Draco had snickered whenever Luna piped up about something or other that seemed purely fictional and Hermione gladly reacted by elbowing him in the side each and every time. In the end, it had been an entertaining tale, to say the least, but things made a little more sense as to how the unlikely duo had managed to fall in love. It was nowhere near as dramatic as Hermione and Draco's 'tale of love'.

"So," Luna said as she stretched out her legs, wriggling her toes and flashing her brilliant, rainbow socks, "how have things been since Ronald's birthday?"

Blaise gave her a quick look that Hermione recognized as a plea that Luna not bring up that particular subject, but this wasn't two weeks ago. It was now, and now she was not stuck in the same cloud of internal pain and conflict she had once been.

"Good," she answered. "It was difficult at first, but things are going much better. I'm fed up of him; I think I'm better off without that prat in my life at the moment." Breathing deeply, she unconsciously reached for Draco's hand, clutching it in her own. "We used to be such good friends, Ron and I. But things changed. Draco pointed that out to me. Ron changed, and it was becoming more of a chore to be his friend. Hopefully Ron will see what I saw and try to get some help."

Draco grinned at her and draped his free arm over the back of the sofa, letting his hand dangle on her shoulder, fingers gently dancing over her. "Yes, well, Weaselbee was a nuisance anyway, so it's better that he's gone."

Hermione rolled her eyes and dug her elbow gently, yet painfully, into Draco's ribs, earning a low grunt of pain in response. "Honestly, Draco," she breathed.

He gave her a quick look before turning his eyes back to the couple in front of them just as Luna spoke up. "I heard," she began, "that Harry and Ginny might have convinced Ron to see Madame Pomfrey and a PsychWitch a couple times a week. Not many people know about it, only the close circle, but I think that you have the right to know."

Hermione's eyes lit up with curiosity and Draco wasn't sure whether to be pleased or concerned. If she jumped back into Ron's arms and friendship just because the kid had seen a PsychWitch a couple of times, then she was in for another heartbreak.

"Hermione," he began softly, squeezing her hand.

She turned and flashed him a smile. "Don't worry; I'm just glad that he's getting some help now. It'll make things better for him, but it will take a lot of work on his part before I would want to be his friend and forgive him."

Pride swelled in Draco's chest; the insecure, disbelieving woman he had seen a few months ago was now standing on her own and unafraid of seeing the truth. He was glad that she had been able to deal with the situation, and even more pleased that she had grown from it. It was always hard to watch a friend deteriorate, especially if that friend had been a constant for a very long period of time. It was always hard to pull yourself away from that constant and try to be something without them. He was glad she had grown strong enough to do so.

"I do not know how much progress they have made," Luna said, "but I think there have been some noticeable changes. You could always ask Harry how Ron is doing."

Shaking her head, Hermione smiled at her friend. "Thanks, but no. I'm going to wait a while before asking anything about Ron; it's too early."

"So," Blaise said with a grin, "now that the Almighty Ginger is getting help, do you think it's about time that you and Draco came out?" He finished with a laugh at Hermione's pointed look when he said the nickname.

"I'm not sure," Hermione started. "I…don't you think it would be too soon after the birthday incident?"

"But you two have been together for about three-four months now, right? Don't you think it would be about time to let the school know? Besides, if you were planning on doing it at the graduation ball, that is so tacky and cliché," Blaise said. "I've heard that every year there was always some couple or two that 'came out' during the ball and none were all too spectacular."

"There was the year when Elijah Corvus came out with Timothy Wood," Draco pointed out.

"Oh yes," Blaise laughed, "that was interesting from what I heard."

Hermione frowned at the reminiscing duo, curiosity etched in her face. "How did you two know about this stuff?"

Their laughing faces quickly sobered at the question and Hermione wondered if she had asked something too personal. "Slytherins stick together," the blond began, "no matter what year you were in, if you had graduated or not, Slytherins had a tendency to stick together. Most of these stories were told at Slytherin gatherings." A dark look crossed Draco's face at the memory, body tensing, either with pain or anger. There were some days when his expressions were so obvious yet so confusing at the same time.

"What…"

"Death Eater recruitment gatherings," Blaise answered softly.

She knew not to ask more in that instant; she didn't want to know more and didn't want to see the pained expression on Draco. Instead, she squeezed his hand tightly and nodded to Blaise, sending him an apologetic look before continuing, "Well, we weren't sure when we were going to come out. We considered the graduation ball, but now that you've said it would be too cliché, and I rather dislike cliches, I suppose, well…to be honest, I'm not sure, " she ended lamely, hanging her head as Draco laughed.

"How about tomorrow's Quidditch game between Slytherin and Gryffindor?"

Hermione didn't know whether she wanted to glare at or hit Luna for the suggestion, especially when Draco's face lit up at the prospect.

"The whole school will be there," her lover began, wheels turning in his head. "It would be perfect. Everyone will be watching the field, of course, we will beat Gryffindor so it'll be an added bonus." Hermione swore, if he could, he would probably be bouncing with glee on the couch. "The weather is supposed to be nice, too, everyone will already be really excited, and it would be oh so amazingly romantic," he lowered his voice in a mocking husky tone, "if you could come running onto the field and come jumping into my arms to kiss me because I played so well."

This time the elbow to his ribs was much harder and dug in deeper and he reacted by slapping her thigh rather harshly. "Draco," she hissed, rubbing her burning spot, "do you honestly think tomorrow would be that wonderful?"

"Look," he said, reaching down to squeezed her thigh in his way of apologizing for accidentally hitting a tad harder than intended, "I'm growing tired of pretending. When I see you in the halls, I want to come up to you and hold your hand, I want to push you against a wall a snog you until you can't see straight. I want to be able to study with you in the library without getting weird looks." He laughed in spite of his romantic words, running a hand through his hair. "I may sound like some tacky, gag-worthy romantic prat right now, but it's true. I want you, I want to be with you, and I don't want us to be afraid of a few people's reactions."

"It's the whole school," she said. "I…I just don't…"

"You've been at the center of the school gossip since you were friends with Harry," Blaise interjected. "It's understandable that you want to stay out of the spotlight as much as possible, but you're forgetting one thing. You're Hermione Granger, one third of the 'Golden Trio' that helped defeat Voldemort. You will always be in the spotlight, and, whether you have the whole world watching you or just a few friends, you will always have people criticizing what you do or don't do. You need to realize that. Luna and I keep our relationship quiet because we are quiet; people don't really notice the things we do, we're good at blending into the background when we must. You…you can't. It would be utterly impossible for you two to forever remain out of the spotlight so you're going to have to bite the bullet and deal with it."

Luna nodded, moving closer to her lover. "Blaise is right, Hermione. If you can't deal with it now, what's to say you'll be able to deal with it in the future." She sat forward, perhaps trying to diminish the space between herself and the other girl, as though moving to comfort and teach. "You have to stop worrying about what everyone else says about you and live your life the way you want to live it."

The brunette's cheeks flushed in mixed embarrassment and minor irritation. "This feels a bit like a planned intervention," she ground out, ready to get angry the moment someone nodded or the gave slightest sign that it was exactly that. She didn't need people coming together to tell her how to live her life, and she most certainly didn't want to hear that Draco had gone to others to convince her to open up to the world about their relationship. She thought he understood, she thought he knew and acknowledged that she wanted to wait until she felt comfortable enough, and if he had done something like this, she was not going to be very happy, for lack of a better word.

"Oh, it's not," Luna said softly, voice wafting on an imaginary breeze." Blaise brought up the topic at random, I believe. I just like to talk to you." Her smile was genuine and always fey-like, and Hermione couldn't help but feel soothed.

"They just want to give their advice, whether it's asked for or not," Draco said after a moment's silence. His grip had tightened slightly around her hand; maybe he had thought that this had been a planned intervention by the couple, too. Guilt slid through as she considered that maybe he had been insulted at her insinuation and she lowered her eyes, looking down to her lap.

"Well," she began, still looking down, "I…I don't know if I'm ready yet."

"Ready for what? Ready to love him in public or ready to deal with what everyone else has to say?" Blaise always had such a lovely way of cutting straight to the point without worrying about the other parties listening in. It wasn't that he didn't care, he preferred being honest rather than dancing around the subject for hours.

She glanced up briefly at the man before looking back down. She tucked her lower lip into her mouth, gnawing on it unconsciously as she considered his words; they were genuinely trying to help and she couldn't just ignore them or respond without thought. She had to take into consideration, had to think them over and justify her response.

It was true, she thought; she was afraid of the reaction of her peers. She had grown up with them, lived with the students through very pivotal moments of her life, and had always felt the limelight on her in some way or another. For the most part, she had been able to ignore the rumours; the majority of them had been false and it had been much easier to hold her head high and trudge on through. She had always been able to pour her attention into school work, to drown her frustration and pain in essay after essay and not worry. But now…this wasn't just some rumour about her being Harry's fling or some Hogwarts wench going from one Triwizard Champion to the next. This was about something very real that meant everything to her.

The question was, would she be able to withstand the boring eyes and whispered rumours like she used to? She thought of herself as stronger since the war, someone who would be able to fight back and endure whatever was thrown at her. But now, her heart was on the line. Not just hers, but Draco's, and she didn't want anyone judging and scrutinizing her relationship.

Blaise was right, however. She was Hermione Granger, the 'brains' of the Golden Trio, and he was Draco Malfoy, betrayer of Voldemort and son of a wealthy, albeit evil, man. They would always find themselves in the spotlight in some way or another; they would never be able to fully avoid it unless they became hermits on some desolate island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. They would have to face the people and their peers sooner or later.

Lifting a hand and rubbing her face, she heaved a sigh, blocking out the conservation between the other three. They were discussing something about flying lions or something…she didn't really care. She had to figure this out; Draco was waiting on her. She furrowed her brows in guilt; Draco was waiting on _her_ to be able to tell the world. She was the one holding him back, her and her fear of what everyone else would say. He didn't care, didn't give a bloody damn about what they could say. All that mattered to him was that they loved each other.

Closing her eyes, she softly breathed out, still trying to figure things out. She wanted to come out, wanted to tell the world how she felt, but she was still terrified. It wasn't even a matter of her friends anymore; the closest ones knew, with the exception of Ron. But, well, he didn't really count as a friend anymore and she knew he would lose it, sane or not. He had always had a relatively volatile temper where Draco was concerned. But Harry knew and he was supportive, Ginny knew and, in spite of her dislike for Draco, she would support Hermione's decision. Luna and Blaise, too, were strong allies and good friends, ready and willing to back her and Draco.

They were who mattered, her close friends, those who cared deeply about her, those who were willing to support her no matter what. And if someone she had considered a friend beforehand turned their back on her, then they weren't the friend she had thought they'd been.

She smiled in spite of herself, in spite of the growing stress and knotting in her back. Really, who cares what the others had to say? Once she thought about it, once she considered everything, all that mattered was that she and Draco were in love, right? It didn't matter if the Hufflepuffs spread rumours or the Ravenclaws jeered, and who cared if the Slytherins hissed and booed while the Gryffindors looked in confused disgust. All that mattered was that her friends had her back and she was with Draco.

Besides, it would be far easier to come out in the open; they wouldn't have to hide in alcoves to just talk to each other, she would no longer be forced to sit on the other side of the classroom and watch him in her peripheral vision. She, too, wanted to hold his hand in public, she, deep down, didn't want to be afraid to hug him or give him a quick kiss in front of her peers. They loved each other and that was all that mattered.

"I think," she spoke up suddenly, "that Saturday would be a perfect time."

The conversation stopped as all eyes fell on her and she blushed darkly, looking back down to her lap. She hated it when everyone stared at her like that; it was incredibly uncomfortable to see the looks of perplexity in their eyes.

Suddenly, warm arms were wrapped tightly around her and she felt instantaneously comforted. Burrowing her head into his chest, Draco leaned down and pressed a kiss on her head. "Hermione, are you sure? You're not doing this just because I want it?"

"No," she answered, voice muffled by his chest. Squirming, she pinched his side and escaped from his tight grip. "Dear Circe, Draco, did you have to squeeze so hard?" she breathed, rubbing her neck. He sent her an apologetic look and she returned it with a glare. "Bloody hell," she muttered. "Yes, I'm doing this because I want to do it. I did some thinking," Luna sent her a look telling her that they knew, "and I came to the conclusion that I would rather come out in the open about our relationship rather than hide it. Who cares what everyone else says? All that matters is, well…." she blushed darkly, unconsciously reaching out and clinging onto Draco's shirt, "that I love you…"

Luna smiled gently as Blaise grinned, squeezing his lover's hand as they watched the couple across from them.

Draco looked down at Hermione, unable to his the happy disbelief on his face. "Are you sure? I know that you wanted to wait, and I don't want you to think we're pressuring you…"

"Since when has Draco Malfoy hesitated when he was getting what he wants?" she teased.

"Since I love you," he murmured, lowering his head to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

Her cheeks darkened as she pressed her lips back, embarrassed and pleased, unable to hide her smile when they pulled apart. "I…I love you too," she replied.

"So," he said, ruffling her hair, knowing it would diffuse any discomfort and irritate her beyond belief, "now that you've agreed to do everything I want, can we try that…?"

"Not if you life depended on it," she interjected, squeezing his kneecap in just the right spot that made his leg jerk.

"You're no fun," he muttered.

Luna giggled and got up, flitting around the room, almost dancing to the mantle as she moved to look at a box placed on it. "So, what is your plan?"

"My plan?"

"Yes," she continued, picking up the container and looking it over, "what will you do?"

Hermione shrugged, dimly wondering what Luna was looking at. "I think I was just going to run up to him after the game and hug him or something…"

"No, you need something more…momentous. You should rip off your clothes, run stark naked to him, and shag him on the pitch."

"Luna!"

She giggled at the other three, opening the box. "It was just an idea."

"I do like the idea of you running up to him," Blaise said, distracting the couple from his girlfriend's actions.

"I could always give you a give kiss," Hermione said, glancing at Draco. "It would be very romantic and I know you love romance."

"Draco...the romantic one? Now how come I have a hard time believing that?" Blaise laughed.

"Because she hates romance," Draco answered, draping his arm back over Hermione's shoulders.

"I find it unbelievably corny," Hermione muttered, ready to dig her elbow into his side if need be.

Blaise grinned, adjusting his position on the transfigured couch. "I suppose you do have a point, but romance can be nice from time to time, too."

"Yes, and Tricorns can be very effective at creating romantic atmospheres," Luna piped up, digging her hand into the box.

"Luna, what are you doing?"

She turned to look at Hermione, smiling like a pleased Cheshire cat. "I found this box of Rainbow Powder and I want to see what the green one looks like," she answered, reaching down to toss a handful of it into the fire.

"Luna! No!"

* * *

"You look very lovely today, Hermione."

"Thank you Luna."

"I quite like how your scarf matches your fireplace."

"Thank you again, Luna, especially for dumping so much of that bloody stuff into our fire."

"How was I supposed to know that you're only supposed to use a pinch?"

"Since you spent ten minutes reading the box before grabbing a nice handful and throwing it in?"

"Oh, right…"

Sighing heavily, Hermione shook her head as they walked down the corridor, wondering if Luna had done it on purpose.

"Well, I thought it would be very erotic to bring him back to your room and have a hot shagging session on the couch with everything glowing a lovely green."

She knew it.

"Luna," she breathed, rubbing her forehead is something close to comic exasperation. "Don't touch the the Rainbow Powder ever again, please."

The blonde merely laughed as they continued to walk through the halls, mischievousness glinting in her eyes. She had done it on purpose, had, for the strangest reason, hoped that it would somehow make Hermione and Draco want to shag senselessly on the rug. The only thing it did was raise her blood pressure and cause Draco to rant and rave for a hour that morning. Not a pleasant reaction.

"So, do you have your plan all prepared?"

Adjusting her scarf, which she knew Harry would not be pleased to see the colour of – green -, she waited until they reached the bottom of the stairs before replying, having passed a couple of eager Hufflepuffs on the way. "Yes, it is all prepared."

"Will you be in your starkers?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and sent glares at a group of Ravenclaws who gaped at Luna and Hermione after hearing the words. "No, Luna, and you have got to stop thinking about sex," she sighed. "I know what I'm going to do and how I will do it, so just stop your worrying and everything will be okay."

Luna nodded but looked somewhat disbelieving when Hermione asked her to stop worrying. Hermione knew that the disbelief made sense; she couldn't stop fidgeting whenever they stopped walking and kept finding a way to tuck her lower lip into her mouth to chew on it. She was nervous.

It was a mere twenty minutes before the game when they arrived at the Quidditch Pitch and took their spots in a crowd of Hufflepuffs, an area where she felt she could be reasonably neutral and cheer equally for both teams. Since the end of the war, the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor had not been as pronounced and the Quidditch games were significantly less violent. It still didn't mean a Gryffindor wouldn't glare at her if they caught sight of her wearing any article of green.

She didn't know why, but she felt nervous for the first time watching Quidditch. She always knew that the brooms were incredibly dangerous and absolutely abhorred riding them, but it felt more pronounced now that her heart was more involved. In the past, she knew that Harry would pull through; he was strong and a very adept Quidditch player. But she had never really watched Draco and had no idea how well he handled the broom. In the past, he had seemed merely haughty, someone who relied on a good broom to do well. Now, however, she knew how hard he practiced and how much it meant to him. All of those days spending hours on the pitch, either with his team or alone, coming back sweaty, dirty, and exhausted, some days crashing on the couch because he was too tired to make it to the shower.

She knew that if Draco didn't do well scholarly, Quidditch would be his life. He loved the sport and worked hard to be reasonably good at it. She just never noticed it up until now.

As she watched, hands clenching tightly onto the railing in front of her, she was torn between awe and terror as she watched Draco fly gracefully around the pitch. His eyes were piercing, even from afar, darting fervently around, searching for the Snitch. A part of her, deep down, really wanted him to win. Not just because he was her lover, but because he had spent all of these years being put down and defeated by Harry in a sport he poured his heart and soul into. Those defeats must have been hard, she had realized. Although, she had heard him once talking with Blaise about how Harry was truly one of the best and even though they didn't get along, he respected Harry for being a good, strong Quidditch player and a powerful opponent. But, in spite of that, she knew that there was a pain in him caused by all of these defeats.

She wanted him to win because he deserved it; he worked his arse off weekly and although Slytherin beat Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, Gryffindor remained their forever undefeated opponent.

The Gryffindor in her felt slightly ashamed; she should be cheering for her House, not it's long-standing rival, but she couldn't help it. She wanted Draco to win.

Luna stood beside her, cheering and jumping happily, wearing a lion-head hood with a large cobra-scarf wrapped around her neck. Always the odd fashion statements, but it's what made Luna, Luna.

Blaise stood on the other side of Luna, dressed less creatively as Luna, showing his Slytherin pride by merely wearing the colours for his team. He was surprisingly very vocal, even more so than Luna, screaming and cursing loudly whenever a foul happened and nothing was done about it. Hermione found him to be quite the fascinating spectator, especially when he nearly lost it at one point when it seemed like Madame Hooch was about to ignore a very obvious foul a Gryffindor Beater had made on one of Slytherin's Chasers.

Smiling in spite of her nerves, she continued to watch the game, pleased yet anxious that the score was incredibly close, Slytherin leading by two goals. Ron, she had noted, seemed somewhat on his game, yet a bit off. She could only assume it was due to his current mental state, but he had smiled and waved to her when he had flown onto the field, not once glaring at her choice of scarf. This pleased her; she saw the removal of the fog from his eyes, knew that he was seeing with more clarity now that he had been a month ago. Even though she wasn't ready to go back to being his friend just yet, it was good to see that he was doing better.

Harry and Ginny had waved too and Harry had sent her a knowing look when he saw her scarf. She had had to blush and had pointed to her red and gold hat, something Mrs. Weasley had knitted for her as a back-to-school gift.

Now, she stood in anxiety, wishing that the game could just end so she could get the plan done and over with.

The game was quick, each goal scored in relative succession, Ginny being the lead scorer for Gryffindor, in spite of Slytherin's very skilled Keeper's work. Soon enough, the stadium roared with excitement as Harry and Draco began speeding through the air in the epic chase for the Snitch.

She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, couldn't watch as they darted up and down, swerving in and around players, making their way through the pitch as they chased after the Snitch. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest, palms sweating as she felt her back muscles contract with anxiety.

Please…just let Draco catch the Snitch…just once. They didn't have to win the Quidditch cup, she didn't care about that, she just wanted Draco to beat Harry just once. He was always second best to him, always the rival, the one who would ultimately lose to let the hero win.

She wanted the rival to win for once. Let him feel the glory, let him feel the joy of knowing he had bested his strongest opponent…

Their arms outstretched, bodies taut as they reached forward in tandem, chasing after the invisible ball.

Her eyes squeezed shut as they shot down to the ground at an unbelievable speed, no longer able to watch for fear that her heart just might give out.

Suddenly, silence. Every voice died simultaneously in the stadium, and she began to fear the worst. Somebody crashed, someone got hurt…

"No bloody way…"

Voices rose like a crashing wave, screams, shouts of jubilation mixed with shock and disbelief. People jeered and cheered, feet stomped loudly against the wooden floors as excitement raced back through the crowd.

"Hermione! Hermione! Open your eyes!"

Turning to Luna, she let her eyes open and found her friend grinning broadly at her. "Look!" Luna squealed in such an uncharacteristic fashion that she couldn't help but look to where Luna pointed.

"No fucking way," she cursed, eyes widening at the sight before her.

Draco was covered in dirt, he was sweaty, panting, but grinning like it was the best day of his life. Harry stood to the side, equally dirty, looking torn between anger and acknowledging what had happened.

In Draco's hands, glinting gently in the sun, was the Snitch.

For the first time in her life, Hermione actually screamed in joy at a Quidditch game.

She found herself pushing her way through the crowd, stumbling rapidly down the stairs as she made her way towards the pitch, squeezing between masses, wanting to get to the love of her life and make his day even better.

This…this excitement, this unadulterated joy, it made everything so much better. She saw in bright, vivid colours, the crowd swirled around her and all she saw was his grinning face. Never before in her life had she ever seen him look so happy.

Maybe wishing did get you somewhere sometimes.

She knew it had to be cliché or extremely corny, knew that things fit a bit too perfectly, but she couldn't help it. This is exactly what he had wanted; he may have said that it didn't matter whether they won or lost, but she knew it meant the world to him to win this game.

It may be the only time they ever win, she thought as she pushed onto the pitch and around the growing crowd, but it didn't matter. Draco had shown, for the first time since he started playing for Slytherin, that he was just as capable at Quidditch as Harry.

She ran past both teams, not seeing the Gryffindor team huddled together, drowning in their sorrow of having lost. She only saw the man who stood before her, surrounded by half of his team.

"Draco!"

He spun around and she found herself flying in the air, arms outspread, and the feeling was incredible as his arms wrapped tightly around her body, clinging her to him.

He grinned at her, face dirty as hell, and she didn't care whether her clothes got dirty from the mud on him. She didn't care that he smelled sweaty, nothing mattered except that he held her in his arms and she loved him.

"Good game, Draco," she murmured, lowering her lips to his in a passionate kiss.

The second his lips met hers, the whole world ceased to exist. She didn't care that the stadium fell quiet once more and it didn't matter that suddenly all eyes fell on her and Draco. Nothing mattered except for the feeling fluttering away in her heart, the sensation of raw love coursing through her veins, starting from where their lips met and flowing through her whole body. All that mattered was him and the feelings he created within her.

It sounded like an explosion; the second his tongue darted into to meet hers, twining erotically, something exploded in the background. Voices rose, shouting in more incredulity and shock than before, arguing and debating loudly. It didn't matter. At this moment in time, she truly understood what they had meant the other day. It didn't matter what the crowd said, didn't matter how the peers reacted, all that mattered to her was the man she held.

When they broke apart, she reached down and pressed her forehead against, unable to stop herself from smiling.

"I'm glad you won," she said, still ignoring the raging crowds.

"This is the best bloody day of my life," he admitted quietly, adjusting to let her feet reach the ground as she moved to stand. "Much better than the first time we…"

She cut him off with a elbow to the ribs and he grunted in pain. "I can now do that to you in public," she half-teased and half-threatened.

"You are a very cruel woman."

"Oh sod off."

It was at this moment that her ears caught the sound of a telltale whoosh and she reacted without thinking, jumping forward and shoving Draco to the ground, landing on top of him as a nearby spot on the pitch exploded in mud, grass and rocks.

Shaking off the debris, she was on her feet in moments, training and experience getting her wand out in seconds, her body ready and poised to fight back in even less time. Spare no second, do not waste a single movement; get up, wand out, and be ready to fight back whoever it is that attacked you.

Draco was beside her, movements in tandem with hers, as though they performed an age old dance, as though they had trained and fought together for years and knew one another's movements by heart.

What she was not expecting, however, was to see Ron standing a few feet away, face contorted with uncontrollable rage. Harry was pushing through the crowd in the background, trying to make his way over to his friend and drag the man back. Students, however, stood still in awe, unable to believe that such an event had just taken place.

"Ron!" she screamed. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

His hand shook, wand jerking violently in his grip, and his face became ugly in all of its fury. "You…You fucking bitch! You lied to me, all of this time you bloody well lied to me! You said you weren't ready, you said you didn't care about Malfoy, and you fucking lied!"

A few weeks of work had disappeared instantaneously, the strength fading behind the veil of distorted reality that had become Ron's new home in the past few months.

"What do we do?"

She admired Draco for his words; he knew that, in spite of everything that had happened, she still cared deep down about Ron. He didn't want to do something that might seriously injure the redhead, nor did he want to let Ron just hurt them.

"Block and subdue, just like those missions when we were trying to capture Death Eaters for information," she answered mechanically. Ron, unfortunately, was an enemy now. She knew no words would reach his fogged mind, knew that nothing she did or say would be able to stop him from doing something he would regret. They would have to just stop him the only way they knew would work.

Her grip tightened on her wand as Ron shouted, sending out another curse in their direction.

It was a sad day when one had to fight their friend because of a kiss.

* * *

**There we go! **

**I will admit, I don't very much care for the middle section, the conversation between Blaise-Luna-Hermione-Draco. I don't know why, but I don't like it, and may find the time to go back and change it a bit. **

**I however liked the rest of it, so I hope that you did. Let me know! I'm going to try to get the next chapter up soon, but I can't make any promises, because my huge essay is due next Tuesday and I have a LOT of work to do on it (it's a minimum of 10 pages with loads of research required). Fortunately, school is over soon so I can write more during the break. **

**Sorry again for the wait everyone. I also wish all American readers an early Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy your weekend and don't eat TOO much (eat just enough to feel a bit fat after, haha). **

**So, enjoy your weekend, have fun while I stress like crazy, and I'll do my best to get the next chapter up ASAP. (I still also want to rewrite the middle section..urgh. But I can't keep you guys waiting for any longer; I feel horrible!)**

**Thanks for reading and take care!**

**Emerald-Kisses  
**


	17. Trojan War

**So…I did have this lovely blurb about how much I love you guys, and I did have the first three pages written in a span of twenty some-odd minutes.**

**But I also have a computer that decided to suddenly freeze and lose all of my work.**

**So, I am annoyed now, which means that my blurb will be shorter.**

**And my chapter was so fucking wonderful! I was seriously proud of it, too.**

**But yes, basically my blurb was how I love you guys and how amazing you are and your reviews always make my day. I love how you are always so damn patient, waiting for me to update, occasionally 'pestering' me to update faster, haha, and how I love that you are so freakin' loyal it's scary. **

**You and my MCMM group of readers/reviewers happen to be the best bunch in the entire world.**

**So, I love you guys. Even though I hate my computer at the moment.**

**FUCK YOU COMPUTER!**

**I feel a bit better now, can't scream IRL 'cause I'm on the train at 10:00pm. **

**Oh well.**

**Extra note (made much later than the above one): I am SO SORRY for the huge delay in updating. Life has been unexpectedly busy. I thought I would have more time with more days off from school, but I have so much homework from my classes that it's insane (my Ancient Greek teacher is crazy, I'm serious). On top of that, add work, soccer, one/two days a week with my boyfriend (which is the only time we get together), and house work, and I have hardly time to update. So, I apologize from the bottom of my heart that this has taken so long. I didn't intend for it to happen, but shit got really real. So I'm very sorry to everyone. I will try to work harder and make more time for this. I promise! (I've already started on the next chapter, but my exam period is coming up, so it may take a bit, but not as long as this one!)**

**P.S. Probably typos in there...wanted to edit, didn't have time, and just gave up.  
**

**Here's the chapter.**

**Btw, sorry, Ron doesn't die. But he may or may not get severely pwned. Just putting that bit out there. **

**Disclaimer: lots of swearing. Because most angry people tend to swear multiple when, well, angry.**

**So, we get cursing! Pretty and beautifully colourful words used to express a feeling when there is no other appropriate word for it. **

**Enjoy that.**

**Chapter 17**

**Trojan War**

_ "Block and subdue, just like those missions when we were trying to capture Death Eaters for information," she answered mechanically. Ron, unfortunately, was an enemy now. She knew no words would reach his fogged mind, knew that nothing she did or say would be able to stop him from doing something he would regret. They would have to just stop him the only way they knew would work._

_ Her grip tigtehened on her wand as Ron shouted, sending out another curse in their direction. _

_ It was a sad day when one had to fight their friend because of a kiss._

(Insert pretty and awesome quote about loss of friendship here)

Two bodies fell to the ground, rolling on the mud and dirty quickly to leap back into their feet, bodies poised, arms outstretched and unwavering, hands clenched tightly about individual pieces of wood that held such untold powers.

Her heart hammered wildly in her chest from the fear and excitement of the battle, a sensation she had not experienced in the past seven months, when they had last caught and subdued the last Death Eater who posed a severe threat to Voldemort's betrayers and the hiding innocent.

She had to ease her mind, had to push away the threatening fears and anxiety and find that place of mindlessness and emptiness. She had to fight back the worries and pull her body and mind into a state of ultimate calm. It was the only way one could survive a battle; be calm, be emotionless, be rational, and defeat the emotional, untrained enemies.

Her eyes never wavered, always staring at the man in front of her, but she caught sight of the other man in her peripheral vision, the one she loved with all of her heart. His pose was perfection, a telling of incessant training and hours of practice. His back was straight, legs taut and ready to move when necessitated, his arm was long and strong, unwavering, fingers clenched tightly around his wand, prepared to hold onto it for dear life, and he bounced almost imperceptibly on the balls of his feet, something only the trained eye would notice. His eyes were empty, hard, grey walls that blocked out all emotion and pushed any fears away. You fear you die, it was common knowledge, and Draco Malfoy was one of the best at pushing away that fear to survive.

It wasn't a mindless uncaring attitude, certainly not, it was a blank, rational state of mind that took over, siphoning the emotions, letting in just the right amount to keep the person feeling human, while remaining calm and collected enough to avoid certain death.

She had to find that place, and quickly, or she would be just like the man they were about to destroy.

The relaxation, the emptiness slid over her mind just as she began to examine her foe.

"You fucking bitch!" he screamed. "You motherfucking bitch!" Spittle flew from his mouth, she could see it from several feet away, and it was reminiscent of the froth at a rabid beast's mouth. His body shook violently, uncontrolled, emotions consuming every inch of his person. His arm trembled, fingers clenching and unclenching around his wand, and it was something, she noted, that could cost him the piece of wood. His eyes were open to the world, raging blue flames of fury, face contorted into an ugly expression of unadulterated rage, and she knew that his heart was utterly consumed by the emotion.

She never left him, never once looked away to stare at any of the confusion, the chaos that surrounded them. She knew it was beyond time for words, knew that she had no choice but to end this. He would lose this battle; it was a certainty. His lack of control was evident and she could easily exploit and take advantage of that.

What bothered her, however, was that she would be the one to ultimate end him.

The fears gnawed at her, but she didn't once break, not even when he screamed again, a red stream shooting for his wand in her direction. She merely took a calm step to the left and allowed the ground to explode in a shower of dirt. Her eyes never left him and she never once let the anxieties take over. She knew they were there, swirling, black emotions that threatened to blanket her mind in a black sheet of despair and guilt. But her heart had grown strong, her mind powerful, and the walls she had created were reinforced with years of experience. She would not break like the man in front of her.

"Ron! Stop this! Stop what you're doing! Please!"

In her peripheral vision she caught sight of Harry pushing through the crowd, trying in vain to shove away the dozens of students that held him back, clinging onto his body for dear life. Guilt tore at his face and she felt a brief pang of it in her heart, but she couldn't let it grow. Harry's voice was pleading, achingly loud and yearning. She knew he didn't want this to happen, knew that he wanted to do everything in his power to avoid the destruction of her friendship with Ron. But she also knew the crowd's mentality.

The students would never let him pass; they clung to him, dragging him back, protecting their hero from possible injury or death. They saw the expression on Ron's face, knew that sanity had exploded into a fury of unrational thought, and they did not want to take the chance that Ron might snap at his best friend. Harry was their hero, he had saved them from evil and destruction, and she knew that the students would do everything in their power to keep him safe. Harry would try to verbally end the argument, having recently developed more pacifistic thoughts and ideals for ending disputes, and he would never be able to raise his wand against his best friend. Ron, on the other hand, was so broken he would not be able to restrain himself.

They did not want to take the chance.

"Shut up! You don't know her, Harry! She's nothing but a fucking whore! A dirty slag!" Ron screamed, taking several trembling steps forward.

"Ron! Stop this madness!" Harry was tyring to shove his way through, trying to get his classmates off of him. "Just let her tell you why! She has a good reason! Let her explain herself and you'll understand! I promise!"

She knew it would come to no avail, but she decided to placate Harry; the tenderness in her heart wanted to at least temporarily ease some of his fears.

"Ron, let me explain." Her voice was soft, easing, but the tone was more for show than to actually soothe the raging redhead. It would not work, she knew that. "I should have told you, should have explained everything back over the holidays, but I was afraid. I couldn't find a way to explain myself and I was afraid you wouldn't understand. I wanted to wait to find the right time, the right opportunity to tell you the truth. But," she sighed softly, "after what happened a few weeks ago, I was just so angry at you that I didn't care anymore. I just couldn't keep this a secret any longer."

"Liar! You're a fucking liar!" Ron spat, sparks flying violently out from the end of his wand. "You're just a fucking slag, shagging every fucking bloke that comes along. Was I next? After Malfoy, was I going to be your next target? Or was it Harry?"

Oh the imagination that man had; if only he was willing to listen to the truth.

"She's not a slag, Ron!" Harry shouted. "She loves him! She told me!"

Her heart stopped beating when Ron suddenly froze, eyes wide with shock as he slowly turned around on the spot, facing the dark-haired man who had grown up with him.

She heard the snap before it happened.

"You knew?" His voice was unnaturally, terrifyingly low. The pieces were falling down now, shattering as they impacted the floor of irrational reality. "You knew…and you didn't tell me?"

Harry hung his head in shame and, watching Ron's face slowly twist and change, she took a couple barely perceptible steps forward. She felt Draco's eyes briefly fall on her and knew he was wondering just what she was doing.

The second she saw the movement, she was sprinting.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"

His roar of outrage hurt her ears, the pain and despair in her voice ached at her heart, and she became suddenly terrified she might not make it on time.

His hand lifted and Harry's head slowly raised, eyes widening with shock as the tip of the wand illuminated. The crowd shrieked, students uncertain of whether to move or to rely that Harry might be able to protect them. Ginny was pushing through the back of the crowd, wand out, tip glowing a faint white, but Hermione knew she would not be able to get to the front in time.

"You ungrateful prick!"

She threw herself into the air, heart wild against her ribs, lungs screaming for air as she wrapped her arms around him, throwing their bodies to the ground. The dark green light shot out in a random direction, landing several feet off of its mark, exploding against the ground and creating a large crater.

She panted, pressing her body roughly on top of his, knowing that once he figured things out, his physical strength would outmatch hers and she would have to find some way to subdue him as quickly as possible.

Looking down, he slowly blinked up to her, a brief moment of clarity showing in his blue eyes.

"Hermione?"

Her knees hurt from where they landed on the ground, her arm ached, shoulder still sore from her previous injury, but she pushed away the aches and pains.

"Ron…stop this," she whispered, not once taking her eyes away from his. "Please. Don't do it for me, don't do it for Draco, do it for Harry, for Ginny, for all of the students watching. Please stop."

The clarity seemed to loom through, pushing away the fog, and she thought, briefly, that she had won, until his eyes darkened with rage once more and she was quickly scrambling to her feet, back in her stance.

"You're just a fucking bitch," he snarled, getting to his feet once she was off of him. "You're a disgusting, foul bitch."

"_Conflagrate!"_

"_Protego!"_

Burning flames met a brilliant white shield in a shower of sparks and explosions, and she heard more than saw Draco running up to her, standing once more by her side. She focused all of her attention to pushing her power through her wand, protecting herself and her lover from a potentially dangerous blast.

"I'm going to kick his fucking arse," Draco growled, wand ready and glowing, prepared to retaliate with a spell of his own.

"Just no Unforgiveables," she answered.

"Love, the only one you have to worry about performing those is Weaselbee over there." He glanced around the pitch for a moment. "Where the hell are the teachers?"

"Probably just as stuck as Harry and Ginny," Hermione answered, knowing that the crowds of students probably created an unintentional blockade and, at the sight of a fight going on, they would most likely not heed to their teachers' demands. She heaved out a soft sigh, the only sign that exhaustion was creeping through her veins. She had never wanted this to happen, had chosen to do this specifically then because she assumed that Ron was more stable than before.

She hated it when she was wrong.

"Why do you think no one else is helping us?" Draco asked nonchalantly as Hermione added an extra burst of energy to the shield.

"Fear, excitement, terror, the usual." She grimaced, pushing more magic through her wand when Ron tried throwing more fire at them. "They don't want to get hurt, but they want to see what's going to happen. I would prefer it if they could at least go into their seats and watch; it would be significantly safer for them."

"Do you want me to get them out of the pitch?"

Her eyes glistened with the faintest of smiles and she tilted her head just the slightest in his direction. "As long as you don't get hurt."

He grinned at her. "I won't get hurt; I have you at my back."

"I'll always have your back."

His grin broadened and he blew her a quick kiss; he wanted to place a big one on her lips, but he knew that it would increase Ron's volatile actions and make things far worse than they already were. So he had to make do with blowing her one.

With her free hand, she reached up and caught something and placed it on her lips. He sent her a quick look of confusion, wondering exactly what she had just put on her mouth. Smiling back at him, she answered softly, "I caught your kiss."

Still grinning, he nodded and ran around the shield, putting up one of his own as he ran towards the crowd of students. He heard Hermione yelling from behind him, successfully distracting Ron from his movements.

Reaching the mass, he glanced over his shoulder and saw that Hermione and Ron were once again engaged in a duel, Hermione powerfully defensive, Ron throwing anything that came to mind at her. He hoped that Ron didn't try to use the fiendfyre; that would be rather difficult to try and stop.

Several students reached out to him, as though wanting to pull him away, and he caught sight of Pansy and her gaggle of girls at the back of the mass, a look of shocked pain written on Pansy's face. He should have felt a pang of guilt towards his childhood friend, but the emotionless reaction felt far more natural than regret ever would.

"Everyone, if you want to watch, do it if you want, but Hermione and I want you to go into the stands. It's too dangerous."

"What about you?" whined several third years Slytherin girls, trying to latch onto his gear. "You'll get hurt!"

"You don't have much time," he growled, glancing back to the fighters. "Get the hell out of this pitch; not many of you are powerful enough to fight back. Let Hermione and I handle this, just get back!"

"We don't want you to get hurt!" the girls squealed, giving Draco more of a headache than any amount of Firewhisky ever would.

In the background, he heard Harry over the crowd, screaming to be let through, yelling for Draco to bring him onto the pitch and help stop Ron. He knew, though…he knew that Potter would never be able to lift his wand against Weasley. Just as he had been incapable of raising his wand against Crabbe when Crabbe had finally gone mental.

Sighing heavily, he hadn't really wanted to do this; it had been some time since he had last used 'this' one anyone and he really hated doing it. But he had no choice, he really didn't want anybody else getting hurt, and if anyone did, Hermione would rip off his kneecaps and feed them to the Grindylows in the lake.

He eased his features, letting a mask of calm slide over his face, before opening his eyes. Dark, cruel, and cold steel met the gaze of dozens of students and the first couple of rows back up. Twisting his mouth into a grimace, he pulled his voice from the back of his throat, allowing the anger, the rage, the disappointment flood through his veins. Cold, dark calculation entered his heart, rationality and cruelity sliding through his system as he let the past begin to consume him.

"What did I say?" he snarled. He let the darkness slide through his voice, the malice that had been forced into him since childhood. He wanted to create pain, wanted to cause fear. "I told you to get the fuck back. Why is it that none of you seem to fucking understand that? Get the fuck out of this pitch before I do something you'll regret," he whispered sharply, twirling his wand through his fingers, allowing just enough magic to seep in to cause the tip to glow a dark green. "Now the get fuck off of the grass, and make sure Potter and the Weasley girl go with you." He looked at the crowd, pleased that no one had noticed that the green was the wrong colour for the Killing Curse; it was too dark. "Now!" he shouted.

The first several rows scrambled back, pushing at students, and suddenly everyone was running off of the pitch and making their way into the stands. He barely heard Harry screaming over the fray; he knew that Hermione would never stop blaming herself if Harry or Ginny got hurt because of her romantic decisions. So, he protected her friends in the only way he could.

"Draco!"

Spinning around, he saw a column of fire flying towards him. Cursing, he jumped back, letting out a hiss of pain as the fire slid across his back, licking away his clothes and branding his flesh. Raising his wand, he shouted, "_Aguamenti!"_

A jet of water gushed out of his wand, meeting the fire in a violent explosion, steam rising where the two streams met.

She was at his side in seconds and he knew she wanted to look over his wounds, wanted to make sure that they weren't too severe, but she had to focus on the fight. Besides, he had a feeling that the second someone touched them, he would be in just enough pain that it would be distracting.

"Got them to leave," he answered her silent question, pushing more magic to make his water stronger and larger. Slowly, it began to push back at Ron's jet of fire.

"Thank you," she murmured softly, raising her wand, tip glowing white as she readied herself for a _protego_.

"No problem."

"Hermione! You fucking whore!"

"Again with the name-calling?" Draco shouted back. "Don't you know how to say anything else? Maybe a nice compliment here or there!"

"Sod off Malfoy, I wasn't talking to you," Ron yelled, trying to push more energy into his wand.

"Ron, I told you to stop this!" Hermione screamed before Draco could say anything. "Bloody hell, we have you outnumbered and overpowered! Just give up already and no one will think any less of you!"

"Yeah right," Draco snorted. "Like no one will think any differently about the kid who snapped and tried to kill his best friend and her lover."

"Keep quiet you," she hissed.

"It's too late!" She fought the urge to roll her eyes. "It's too fucking late for that! He…he's brainwashed you…he's done something to you! I have to stop him; he makes you think you care about him! He's nothing, Hermione! Nothing but a filthy Death Eater! He wanted you to die because you're nothing but a Mudblood!"

"I never - !"

"Shut it, Draco," she snapped, raging seeping into her body. She hated Ron now, hated him for his actions and hated him even more for his words. It was an anger unlike any she had ever felt before; not only had he insulted the man she loved, but he had dared to use the word "Mudblood." Did he not know how much pain that word caused her? Did he not understand just how much it made her heart break and ache? The heartless bastard.

"Ron, you bloody bastard, you are a heartless piece of shit!" she screamed, wand glowing brighter. "How dare you call Draco a Death Eater! He has done nothing to deserve that; he helped use defeat Voldemort, he gave us the bloody location and let us know his every weakness! He is far from a Death Eater!"

"He's brainwashed you into believing that!" Ron pushed more magic into his wand, the fire matching the water, swirling and steaming in the center of the pitch. "He's manipulated you, used his Death Eater magic on you! He thinks you're just a Mudblood; he'll probably just bring you to his lair and kill you!"

"Stop calling me that!" Her eyes shut as the screamed the words, the pain wrenched from the very depths of her heart and soul as tears threatened to spill over. It was so hard, had always been so hard, not to break down and allow the emotions to rule over her every time she had heard that word. But now, as Ron used it, called her it, it hurt. It hurt more than anything. He should know what it did to her, should know how it made her feel, how much of a derogatory word it was. He was her friend…once was her friend. Friends never did things like that to each other.

"Hermione," Draco said softly, a warning and soothing comment all mixed in one. She had to calm down, had to take in a deep breath and push away the pain in her heart. She didn't like it, she wanted to break down and scream and cry, but she couldn't afford to do it.

Swallowing thickly, she nodded to Draco.

"Ron," she began loudly, voice a tad shaky. "I will tell you this only once, because I don't feel like repeating myself anymore. First off, you need help. Go to St. Mungo's, get admitted into the Psych Ward, and don't come back until you're mentally fit. Next, don't you _ever_ used that word around me ever again! You don't realize how horrible of a word it is, do you? You have no clue how much it hurts to hear a friend say that word to me." Her wand tip glowed bright and she swore she saw something like regret flash in Ron's eyes. "Lastly, I don't care what you say about Draco; he's not a Death Eater, he's far from one. He didn't brainwash me, Ron; I love him."

Silence followed, the only sound being the chattering of the crowd and the steaming hiss of water meeting fire. It was deafening and frightening; silence, the quiet, the calm before the storm.

Something was not right.

If it were possible, they would have heard a loud, violent crack echoing through the stadium as that last little shred of sanity snapped.

Rage consumed him and he found himself at a loss of words, unimaginable pain tore through his body and he saw nothing but red.

With a loud cry, the tunnel of fire changed directions and she swung her wand, sending out a large shield to protect herself from harm. The water from Draco's wand quickly disappeared and he turned to Hermione as she kept the shield strong.

"You just had to push him that last little bit," he sighed.

"I couldn't help it," she admitted quietly.

The fire suddenly died down and they were faced with a panting, sweating Ron several feet away. Hermione kept the shield up, however, just in case he decided to attack again.

"Put down the shield," Draco said suddenly.

Blinking at the blond, Hermione sent him a frown. "Why?"

"I have a plan. Put it down, and then put it back up when I say so." She frowned at him, wondering aloud what he was going to do. "Just trust me, love. This bastard's been just fighting with magic, he wants to fight, we'll fight. Man to man."

"I never thought of you as a hand-to-hand combat type," she admitted. "And I also do not need you fighting my battles for me," she added.

"He is fighting both of us, so we will both fight him. I just have a better of chance of kicking the bloody shit out of him in hand-to-hand than you." He flashed her a quicky smirk. "The plan is, I kick the living shit out of him, and when you have a shot, stun the weasel."

"Don't call," she began but hesitated, realizing that the words were more out of habit than in actual defense of the man. "Fine," she sighed. "When you're ready."

"Now."

The shield lowered and Draco suddenly sprinted forward. Quickly, she reset the shield at his signal and he kept running. Ron took a moment to gawk and try to figure out just what was going on before something clicked. Suddenly, he was throwing out curse after curse, Draco dodging them.

"_Stupefy! Stupefy!"_

Rushing, closer to Ron now, Draco jumped over the curses, twisting his body in the air to land comfortably on his feet and keep running. When he was within reach, he pocketed his wand and threw his body at the redhead, both landing in a heap on the ground.

Rolling over, Ron managed to slide his body out from under Draco's before the blond could get a hold on him and scrambled to his feet. Swinging, he kicked at the blond's face and Draco leaned back, dodging it, before gracefully getting to his feet.

"This again, Malfoy?" Ron snapped, clenching his hands into tight fists.

Draco grinned. "Don't be angry that I can beat you in both magical and physical duels," he answered. "Give me your best shot."

Letting out a cry of rage, Ron lunged forward, tossing his wand aside to throw a punch at Draco. Like before, Draco gracefully stepped to the side and reached out with his hand, grabbing the redhead's wrist. With a quick and swift movement, he twisted his body, pulling down as he pushed up. Ron was airborne before he even realized what was happening, landing hard on his back.

"Bastard!"

Draco chuckled as Ron got back to his feet, listening as the redhead curses him to hell and beyond. It was a lot of fun to embarrass Weasley. Stretching a bit, he fought back a wince as his back ached just the slightest bit. It was starting to hurt him again, but at least the adrenaline pumping through his body was distracting enough.

Ron threw himself at Draco and he dodged again, spinning around in time to avoid a second attack by the redhead. Unfortunately, however, the redhead's hand made contact with the burnt flesh of Draco's back.

Hissing with pain, Draco grabbed the Ron's arm a second time, moving with more force and flipping Ron hard onto the ground. He felt blood trickling down from the broken, scabbed skin and it irritated him more than anything.

As Ron got to his feet once more, out of sheer annoyance, Draco simply stretched out and slammed his fist against the other man's face. He watched with sadistic glee as blood spurted from the man's nose, taking this moment to grab his hands and hold them behind his back.

"Hermione! Now!" He held Ron in front of him, using him as a shield and keeping the man exposed enough for Hermione's spell to hit the target without any problem.

She swallowed thickly, taking a moment to take in a deep breath before readying her wand. "I'm sorry Ron," she murmured, lifting her wand, the tip glowing.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

Her wand went flying and all eyes fell on the person standing near the entrance to the pitch. Looking rather disheveled and extremely upset, McGonagall glared furiously at the students as she reached up and grasped the wand.

"What in the world are you three doing?" she shouted, face red with a myriad of emotions. "Do you even know where you are? Do you have an idea of what you have done?"

Adrenaline still flowed through her veins, so much so that Hermione didn't even register an inkling of alarm or fear at Professor McGonagall's voice. Her body was screaming with the need to continue fighting until the very end, a mentality she had obtained from months spent fighting against the merciless Death Eaters.

"You two! Put your wands on the ground immediately! And let go of Weasley, Malfoy, now!" the Professor commanded, hair standing comically at ends and hat askew from having to push and pull her way through the thick crowd of astonished, cheering, and screaming students.

Almost as if they woke from a dream, Draco suddenly let go of Ron, sending the redhead stumbling forward to his knees, and pulled his wand out. "Professor, I refuse to let my wand go until Weasley drops his. Just in case."

Ron blinked at the Headmistress, wondering how the hell she just materialized out of nowhere so suddenly. Looking around, he took in his surroundings, let go of a deep breath, and realized that it was of no use to keep fighting. He was outnumbered and overpowered.

Sighing, he gestured to the side, where his wand had been tossed some time during his physical brawl with Draco. "It's there," he mumbled.

Crossing her arms sternly, Professor McGonagall waited and watched as Draco took out his wand and gently placed it on the abused terrain. He stood still as the Professor marched over and gathered both of the wands, tucking them into the pockets of her robes. Looking at the trio, her face twisted in disappointment and immeasurable frustration, she gestured for them to follow her.

"My office. Now," she ordered, making her way off of the pitch. When she paused near the entrance and looked back, the trio suddenly scrambled forward, rushing after her.

Hermione wanted to say something as she followed the Professor out of the stadium. The adrenaline was quickly fading, the need to survive replaced by the need to explain and difuse the situation. She needed the Headmistress to understand why this happened, how come she and Draco couldn't have just backed down and avoided the entire confrontation. But a part of her knew that it was useless to argue now; it would only further frustrate McGonagall and make things worse.

At the same time, a realization was slowly dawning on her. They had fought on school grounds. Not just a few punches here or there; they had flung curses at each other, had used magic against one another with the intent to harm – at least, that was certain in the case of Ron. But, no matter what, they had used magic to fight, and fighting itself was strictly prohibited.

Her breathing sharpened and quickened as she began to understand just how precarious and bad the situation was. They could be suspended, or worse, expelled. Or they could have their wands revoked for a period of time. Or they could…

She began to hyperventilate at the thought of being sent home, wandless and in disgrace, unable to finish her education, unable to continue casting her magic, unable to continue her dreams because of a stupid, redheaded idiot who seemed to live in an alternate reality.

Her feet carried her, but her mind was elsewhere entirely. What would her friends say? What would her family say? What about Draco? What if they revoked his wand, too? How would his family react? She had pulled him into this, had dragged him down with her, and now he was in just as much trouble as her and it was all her fault.

"Fuck," she murmured, digging her hands into her hair, nails dragging across her scalp as tears threatened to burn her eyes.

A soothing hand made its way to her back, gently rubbing up and down her spine in an attempt to calm her restless fears. Turning, her gaze met Draco's; his tender, loving, and calming quicksilver eyes. Almost instantly, she felt a cooling wave of relaxation wash over her body, chilling the angry heat growing within.

She was glad that McGonagall and Ron seemed oblivious to their actions, walking away, McGonagall with angry purpose and Ron with his head hanging down. This was a moment where she felt broken, raw, and open, a moment that she knew only Draco would ever be able to see.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed to him, reaching out to tug on his shirt.

Smiling gently, he reached over and placed a peck on her cheek, never breaking his stride. "Don't be sorry," he whispered. "Just remember, you have my back and I'll always have yours. We're in this together."

Nodding, she kept her hold on his clothes, walking the rest of the way in silence. Her mind had quieted as his soothing words and touch. His, too, he calmed down. He knew that the worst that could happen was probably a temporary suspension from classes, if McGonagall had witnessed the whole fight. She couldn't expel them; they were merely protecting themselves.

Weasley, on the other hand…that was a completely different situation.

"I will talk to you one at a time," McGonagall said once they had entered her office. Hermione couldn't help but lower her head at the look the portrait of Dumbledore was giving her. Peering, calculative, concerned, curious, and…pleased? It was uncomfortable and strange, to say the least, and she last thing she wanted was to have her favourite Headmaster know that she was in trouble for fighting.

About to ask how, she watched as McGonagall gestured for Ron to step forward first, and then created a bubble around the two of them, silencing the area within to those outside.

Turning, she ignored as McGonagall began a very restrained looking conversation with Ron, the redhead gesticulating wildly, as though unable to contain the anger provoked by the topic of conversation.

"Draco," she began.

"Look, Hermione," he cut her off gently, removing her hand from his shirt to slide his fingers between hers, "we are not going to get expelled."

"How do you know that? How are you so sure of it?"

"I've been in trouble enough throughout the years to know how this will play out. We were defending ourselves. Weasley attacked us and we had no choice but to try and defend ourselves from his actions. At worst, we might have an in-school suspension for fighting, but that's it. She can't expel us."

Hermione wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that yes, she could expel them, but this was one of those times when she had to put her trust in someone else's knowledge. While she had read Hogwarts: A History several times, Draco probably did understand the school's penal system better than she. She had, after all, made it a point tos tay out of trouble as much as possible in her years at Hogwarts.

"Okay," she breathed. "Okay...but, what will happen to Ron?"

"He's getting expelled." Draco spoke the words with such a calm tone that it almost broke her heart. If it weren't for the fact that Ron had just tried to, essentially, kill them, she would have felt more pity. But, no matter what, it was still shocking to learn that a good friend – ex-friend – of hers was going to be expelled from school.

"We need to let McGonagall know about his state of mind," she said quickly, glancing over to ensure that the Headmistress and student were still in their bubble. "We need her to know that he's not…right."

"We will, don't worry." He squeezed her hand. "But, for now, we just tell the truth."

"I know that," she muttered, squeezing his fingers back.

She watched as the bubble lowered and Ron stepped back out, looking rather upset. Swallowing thickly, she took a step forward as McGonagall motioned her to go next. Glancing back at Draco, she sent him a quick smile before stepping forward and being surrounded by the bubble.

Show time.

* * *

**There we go.**

**Again I'm so sorry that it took so long to finish this. I would have incorporated the conversations with Hermione, Draco, and McGonagall, but that would just take too long since I have plans for that. Anyway, thank you all for your unbelievable patience. I know what it's like to wait for forever for someone to update, to wonder if they're even gonna keep writing and I'm sorry for putting you all through that.**

**I plan on spending more time writing now in the future, now that things are easing up a bit and I am on Spring Break next week. **

**Note: called this chapter Trojan War after the concept/story of the Trojan War, the face that set sail a thousand ships. Hermione is my Helen, Draco could be Paris and Ron Agammemnon's brother. Although Draco is no pansy like Paris. **

**Also, I was wondering, to either any history buffs or Montrealers/Quebecers out there reading, I would like to take two seconds of your time to appeal to you. My friends did an advocacy a while back (basically a peaceful protest) to get the City of Montreal to start taking care of the house of Louis-Hippolyte Lafontaine, who is essentially the first ever Prime Minister of Canada. They have a petition running, and if you want to sign you can. **

**This is the link you can use. Obviously replace (dot) with .  
**

http:/www(dot)gopetition(dot)com/petition/42522/signatures(dot)html

**THANK YOU GUYS FOR YOUR PATIENCE! YOU ARE REALLY THE BEST! I LOVE YOU ALL!3333**


	18. Casualty

**I'm putting my apologies first because I need to say them.  
I want to say a huge 'I'm sorry' for all the waiting for this next chapter. Some of you may have checked my profile and saw that I had a huge, nasty computer virus a while back. I couldn't open my computer or anything, and for about a month, my dad worked diligently trying to get into my computer so that I could save my files.  
After we finally saved my stuff and re-installed everything, I just lost the drive to write. Now that I think about it, I think I was terrified of writing more, finishing my work, and then losing it suddenly to another virus or crash. The fear of potentially losing everything again is what kept me away. I hadn't even opened Word since I re-installed my computer, and because of that, I lost my drive to write for a while. **

**On top of that, I have also been working two jobs this summer, which has been taking up my time. I have also been spending more time with my boyfriend, which means less computer time for me. **

**But finally, after seeing the midnight premier of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part II (it was really good, although didn't really follow the books, as usual), I've gotten back into my groove, although more recent things in my life have slowed down the writing chapter was also very difficult to write; so much to put down, yet so little. It was a lot harder than I expected.  
**

**So, I'm sorry for all of the waiting you guys had to endure. I'm sorry for pushing your patience, and I'm sorry if you have given up (and I completely understand). I'm sorry for being so unreliable lately, such amazing readers/reviewers like you guys don't deserve it. **

**So again: I'M SORRY YOU GUYS!  
Thank you, thank you all for your patience, thank you all for your reviews, and thank you all for your dedication. No author could ever ask for more. It's because of you that I'm pushing through this fear and I'm continuing again. For you guys. 3**

**Extra mini-note: somebody in a review said that Blaise was a Chaser for the Slytherin Quidditch team. That was only true in the Fifth movie and, unfortunately, I don't really base my stuff off of the movies because they deviate a bit too much from the books at times. But you have an awesome eye/memory, because I wouldn't have noticed that! So, thank you for letting me know, but unfortunately it's in the movie and not the books, so I won't be editing it, sorry.  
**

**Therefore, after such a long time, I will now give you: Chapter 18!**

**Chapter 18**

**Casualty**

"_Men are not prisoners of fate, but prisoners of their own minds" – Franklin D. Roosevelt_

"_It's terrifying to see someone inside of whom a vital spring seems to have broken. It's particularly terrifying to see him in your mirror." – Mignon McLaughlin_

The bubble enveloped them, surrounding them in a strange, almost deafening, thick wall that allowed no sound to enter. It felt somewhat like she was underwater, unable to hear what was spoken on the surface, but just barely able to discern, from vibrations, that something was making noise, only if the sound was loud enough.

She fidgeted uncomfortable; while she had been in trouble many times before in the past, nothing she had ever done equated to the actions she had taken just minutes earlier.

McGonagall seemed to almost calm down somewhat, her face less red than earlier, body less tense, but the disappointment in her eyes never faded. Sighing heavily, she sat at her desk and stared at Hermione.

"Well, Miss Granger, tell me why did you decide to do something so…stupid?" The anger was there, barely kept in check, but the disappointment was stronger and more painful.

Shuffling her feet a bit, she took a deep breath, staring down at her boots as she tried to gather enough courage and determination to go through this without breaking. She wanted to cry, to beg for forgiveness, to ask the Headmistress to stop staring at her like that, but she knew that she couldn't.

She had to be strong. Draco had her back, she had to have his.

Swallowing thickly, she took in another deep breath, and faced one of the few individuals she looked up to. "It was in self-defense," she began. "Ron…well, he…" she stumbled, trying to formulate an appropriate sentence, "you see, Draco and I have been seeing each other since Christmas. We kept it secret because we knew the student body wouldn't accept it. But, we decided that maybe today we would let it know."

"Go on."

"So, as you saw, when the game was over we, well…let the school know that we are together. I thought Ron was stable enough now, thought that he had enough common sense to try and be more of a man about it…" She faltered. Her heart clenched tightly in regret. She knew she should have waited, she should have been completely certain that Ron would not snap when finding out about her relationship with Draco.

"What was done was done, in that scenario, Miss Granger, "McGonagall said softly, almost as if reading the young adult's thoughts. "Please, keep going."

Nodding, she played with the end of her scarf. "When we, uh, kissed," she blushed darkly, "Ron must have snapped. He attacked us. We saw no choice but to defend ourselves; there were too many students around. I tried to reason with him, trying to get him to understand, but he wouldn't have any of it. Our attacks were defensive, we did not aim to harm at all, merely avoid getting harmed." Her voice had gradually grown stronger, more determined and confident. Let McGonagall be disappointed, she now thought. She had done the right thing.

"Why didn't you just use the disarming spell?"

That was a good question. Even now she wondered why, at the time, _expelliarmus_ wasn't the first spell to be spoken. "We didn't have a clear shot," she answered firmly. "We also had no choice but to defend ourselves when he performed the fire tunnel curse. Disarming would have removed the wand, but we would have certainly been hit by the fire."

She was getting to her, she realized. The disappointment was slowly being replaced with understanding, although the frustration was still there.

Sitting back, McGonagall removed her hat, placing it aside as she patted down her hair, trying to push the strands back into the severe bun. "That is…plausible. What I need to know, though, is about Ronald Weasley now. I know that he has lacked a certain amount of common sense before but…please, elaborate on what you meant by 'stable'."

Hermione began to pace then, crossing and uncrossing her arms, shoving her hands in and out of her pockets, trying to find the right way to tell the Headmistress about Ron's psychological issues. Should she ease into it? Start gradually and then either let McGonagall figure it out or explain like one would explain it to a child? Should she be direct and straight to the point? Tell her that Ron was mentally…disturbed and that he was being more than just an idiot?

Rubbing her face, she withdrew her hands and found little droplets of blood on her fingertips. Touching her face, she found that some time during the fight, she must have cut her lip. Only now did the pain begin. It was strange, she thought, how one could be injured and not notice or feel pain, and yet, once one saw the wound it hurt more than ever.

"He needs help," she blurted out, wiping the blood on her jeans. "He's not himself anymore." The words burst from her, no special order, no planned sentences; they exploded from her heart as the pain swelled up, both in her lip and her soul. "He…for a long time, we thought nothing was wrong. He was just being an arse, we thought he was moody. We ignored it. Now he's…he's different. He's not himself. He yells, he cries, he snaps over everything. I can't be with him, I can't be near him. He's not stable. He seems to believe that he and I are meant to be, and when I told him it wouldn't happen, he broke more. He's…his mind is broken." Tears escaped them, flowing freely in scalding trails down her cheeks. "He's broken…something broke my friend…"

* * *

He moved to the other side of the room, unable to be near him. The kid was giving him dirty looks, angry glares, and shoved all of the blame in the world in those furious blue eyes. But he could care less; he knew it wasn't his fault; the redhead was the idiot that started all of this shit.

Leaning against a side table, cautious of his aching back, he wriggled his toes. They were becoming cramped in his Quidditch boots; he had probably tied the laces a little too tight before the game and they weren't exactly made for running around and dueling in. Leaning down, he untied some of the side laces, easing the tension in his legs, and focused his attention back on the bubble just a few feet in front of him.

He watched as she fidgeted, looking more and more uncomfortable with every passing minute, and he couldn't help but wonder just what they were talking about.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he shifted his feet for comfort and continued to watch her. He couldn't see her face, would be unable to read her lips, but he saw the Headmistress's expressions gradually change from disappointment to concern and realization.

"Don't look at her."

Rolling his eyes at the childishly snappish voice, he lolled his head to look at the angry redhead at the other side of the room. He looked rather comical; his clothes were ripped in places, his hair was standing askew, the Keeper helmet having been lost at some point before the fight, and his cheeks were mottled red with rage, making his freckles either stand out obscenely or blend into to increase the ruddiness of his cheeks.

"Who, the Headmistress or Hermione?"

He just had to do it; he always had to do it, egg him on; pester the Weasley youth until hackles rose and teeth were bared. Even when it seemed like the worst idea in the world, he always took some strange pleasure in bothering the young man. There was just something in the way the redhead's mouth first fell open, gaping like a confused fish, before quickly slamming shut, as though he had just become aware of what he had been doing. Then the cheeks flooded red with frustration or rage, depending on Draco's comment, and lastly, the hands would shake and the ears were coloured to match the cheeks as he ground his teeth.

There was something almost comical in the way things occurred and, now that he thought about it, Draco was pretty sure it was the ears. Weasley was the only person in the entire world whose ears turned as red as the ripest tomatoes.

It was really funny.

"You know who I'm talking about, _Malfoy_," Ron snapped, crossing his arms and shifting on his feet, moving his body to make it appeared larger.

Looking over his opponent – usually, he would say rival, but with Ron's recent actions and mental state, it wasn't right to use that term –, Draco twisted his lips into a smirk while his mind went over and calculated the odds of winning in a physical brawl at the moment. Ron was strong, there was no doubt about that, but so was Draco. The main issue was that they were both already exhausted from a rather grueling Quidditch match, further weakened from the duel, and Draco's back felt as though he had a fourth degree burn covering the entire area of it. It wasn't a very good sign that whenever he moved a single part of his body in the slightest matter, hot, electric needles pulsated throughout his entire back.

It would probably be an even fight, he deduced; his injury slowed him down, but Ron was already slower than him, so it put them on a more even fighting ground. And Draco was able to think clearly, Ron's emotions quickly clouded his rationality and made him excitable and predictable.

But, nonetheless, it was the worst idea in the entire world to start a fight in the Headmistress's office, after being brought there for fighting. So he'd have to just keep the witty remarks to a minimum.

"I'll be honest, I have no clue who you're talking about," he sighed, tearing his eyes away from the redhead to gesture to the women in the bubble. "I suppose I'll have to assume that you mean the delightful Hermione. And I suppose," he added, turning his eyes back to Ron, "I should tell you that you have no right to tell who I can or cannot look at."

Ron's fists tightened, knuckles whitening as his frustration threatened to overflow once again. However, one little glance to McGonagall had his body relaxing in small increments. He had to remind himself just who was present, and while McGonagall could suspend him, he didn't want Hermione witnessing the savage beating the ugly ferret standing in front of him.

It was just too cruel.

"Malfoy, I told you once, I'll tell you again, stop looking at her with that disgusting look on your face," he growled, trying to make his voice hold as much menace and promise as he could.

What he didn't expect was to see Malfoy suddenly scoff and look at his nails. "Honestly, Weaselbee," Draco began in his rarely used drawl that was reminiscent of his younger years, "you have no clue who you're talking about. You see, I can look at whoever I want to; it's a free world. And besides," he added with a smirk, "she likes it when I look at her with this 'disgusting look,' she has a thing for it."

It took every last bit of will he had not to slug the blond. That bloody, stinking ferret was baiting him, trying to push as many buttons as he could; experimenting with different words and actions to see just what the results might be. He couldn't let him win, but holy fucking hell did he want to beat the shit out of him.

"You don't deserve to be free, you bleedin' Death Eater," Ron snapped, trying hard not to pick up the nearest object and whip it at the smiling blond.

That did sting a bit, Draco realized after a second's silence. Even now, three years after the war had ended, he was still being put into the category of cruel, uncaring, malicious Death Eaters. Even after he had exposed himself as the informant for the Order during the war, he was still being ostracized and segregated for his past actions. Technically, now that he thought of it, the only wrong thing he had done was disarm Professor Dumbledore, but even then, he hadn't had a choice. It was either attempt to kill the Headmaster or watch his family be tortured and butchered before his very eyes. He never had a choice, and even in the end, he still hadn't been able to bring himself to use the Unforgivable Curse of death.

After all of this, after being tortured for having been found out by a few Death Eaters – who had been killed shortly after by members of the Order –, after helping the Order perform pivotal actions and missions that helped them gain the advantage, after saving the lives of so many people, he was still seen as the nasty, foul-mouthed, cruel, wannabe Death Eater he had been in his First Year.

Hell, he had even saved Weasley's life at one point – not that he had had a choice, he admitted bitterly.

And this was how he was being repaid for his actions.

"Weasley," he began slowly and carefully, wanting nothing more than to rip out the eyes of his current enemy, "you know very well that I'm as much of a Death Eater as your mother was. Call me anything you want, hit me, curse me, say what you want about me, but never, _ever_ call me a Death Eater, because I never was and never will be one."

There must have been something in his voice; Ron had instantly slammed his mouth shut and swallowed any retort he had been ready to dish back out. It didn't matter what he had done, the argument was finished and he wasn't in the mood to start another; his back was aching and he wanted nothing more than to fix his wound and take a nice, warm bath with Hermione.

Instead he was stuck in his here because of the damn idiot on the other side of the room.

There was no indication that they had finished with their conversation; the next thing he knew, Hermione was stepping out of the bubble, looking torn between pain and relief. Her cheeks were red and eyes just barely puffy and he knew that she had been crying.

Stepping forward, he let his hand just gently brush against her shoulder, a simple sign of comfort that he knew she needed. "I love you," he whispered softly, just squeezing her shoulder before moving to step into the bubble with the weary looking Headmistress, unwillingly leaving Hermione alone with the last person he wanted her alone with.

* * *

"Mr. Malfoy," she began almost instantly, lacing and squeezing her fingers together, "while Ms. Granger has been kind enough to explain the situation, I would like for you to tell me everything that has been going on with Mr. Weasley. From the beginning."

He hadn't been expecting this; well, he had, but he had not expected it to be the first thing she asked. He had been positive that she was going to first ask about his relationship with Hermione, and then ease into the subject about Weasley. This directness told him that Hermione must have really let everything out about Weasley.

"To be honest Professor, I'm not sure exactly when it started," he began. "I only became very close with Hermione just prior to the Christmas holidays, but I have been watching for some time. It's not hard to see that he had been acting differently. He was angrier, more short tempered, and seemed almost obsessive with Hermione, especially when she said that she would be staying behind for the holidays." He then began to recount the situations that had passed in the months before and after Christmas, demonstrating his concerns for Hermione's well-being while being in contact with Weasley.

When he finished, there was surprise in the Headmistress's eyes, and he assumed that Hermione had not been able to see all without a biased approach to her once close friend.

"All of that has been happening and no one has said a thing about it?"

"I've discussed Weasley's situation with Hermione before, but I understand that it's hard for a friend to see him in the way that I do." He was being calm and serious; he had no choice but to sound professional when discussing the situation, it made him sound serious and it kept him from raging childishly about the redheaded bastard.

"Then tell me, Mr. Malfoy, what do you suggest we do about this situation? Evidently, you and Ms. Granger will be appropriately punished with the loss of House Points and detentions, but I will not be expelling either of you due to the circumstances surrounding the fight. Mr. Weasley, however, is a different matter. Both you and Ms. Granger have expressed your concerns for his psychological state and, after witnessing this afternoon's events and hearing what you had to say, I join you in those concerns." Leaning before, she adjusted her glasses, showing the faintest sign of weakness in her eyes. She was getting too old for these childish games, too tired to deal with students with too many problems that couldn't be easily solved.

It was, for lack of a better word, a pain in the ass.

"What do you think has caused this?" she asked. Normally, she would have been able to fully assess the situation, but she had not always been present at every fight during the War, and something may have happened that she did not know about. It was very easy for a curse to go wrong and have an effect on the mental state of a witch or wizard; it happened all of the time. She just needed to know which curse, and they could move on from there.

"I think it's a culmination of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and Curse-Gone-Wrong Syndrome," he answered calmly. "I don't know which curse, but during the final battle, there were so many curses flying around that it is likely a badly casted one hit him. Add on the mental trauma of losing family and friends, and dealing with the stress of the war, it was only a matter of time before somebody showed signs of instability." He almost felt like a Mediwizard with his terminology, but he kept it as textbook sounding as possible, it removed him from the situation and kept his emotions at bay. He really just wanted to whine and vent about Weasley being the world's biggest thorn in his side, but that wouldn't help him get what he – well, Hermione – wanted.

"I agree," the Headmistress said without a moment's hesitation. She then leaned forward and the stern expression returned, pushing away the weariness of age and experience. "Now, tell me why you didn't merely disarm Mr. Weasley."

Draco resisted the urge to sigh and began his explanations.

* * *

The tension was so thick that not even the sharpest blade could cleanly slice through it. She had moved to the farthest possible point in the room, unknowingly standing in the same spot as her lover had moments before. She didn't want to be near him, didn't want to look at him and see the stranger hiding in her friend's eyes.

The reality of the situation only got worse the more she thought about it, the more she realized just how long she had purposely put herself in the dark about Ron's mental breakdown.

Taking in a deep breath, she willed her body to relax and tried to ease her mind by focusing on one of the questions for her Potions homework that she was having a slightly difficult time with.

It worked for a moment, slowing her heartbeat, easing her breathing, and slowly the tension seemed to glide out from her body. It was great until something decided to snap her concentration and lull her back into her anxieties.

"Hermione…"

Bloody fucking hell, couldn't he just leave her alone for five minutes? All she wanted was five minutes to relax, calm herself, and stop worrying about the weight of the world, and yet, he always seemed to be there, either in body or mind.

"Ron," she began softly, "please don't…"

"I…I just wanted to," he began, taking a sudden step forward, worry making his eyes glow.

"I'd rather not talk to you right now," she responded, trying to detach herself as much as possible.

"Then listen." His hands twisted and twined uncomfortably and he fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot. Seeing the signs that he had something he needed to let out, she let out a quiet sigh and silently indicated for him to continue.

"I…I want to say that I'm sorry. I don't know what happened, or what made me do it, but…I'm sorry. I was just that seeing you with Malfoy…it was just so…it just set me off. I can't stand that, I can't stand him and he is." He began to pace, still fidgeting with his hands. "He's a Death Eater, you know. A bloody Death Eater, and he tried to kill Dumbledore! That should count for something! He's not right for you, Hermione! Not at all! And it's not right that…that you kissed him like that!"

"Ron," she interjected.

"No, no, no, let me talk." He waved a finger at her, stopping mid-stride. "It's just…I can't believe that you can't see him for what he really is! He's a _Death Eater_," he emphasized, gesticulating wildly as if it further increased the emphasis. "A bleedin' Death Eater, Hermione! And he says you love him? How could you love someone like him? He's one of those bastards that tried to kill you, your family, and your friends, and you love him? This is either the world's biggest hoax or he's charmed you in some way, because that would never be true! I know it, I know it wouldn't be true, because I know you really love me." He began to babble then, going off on several tangents, each one wilder than the last.

"Ron," she tried again, her voice a tad louder this time.

But he continued to go off, talking about her love for him, and his hatred for Draco, continuously digging himself deeper into his hole of mental instability. If she didn't stop him soon, he wouldn't be able to crawl his way out.

"Ron!" she shouted, resisting the urge to slam her hand down on the table. "Stop it right now!"

He seemed to freeze, staring at her dumbfounded for a few seconds. She took that to her advantage and continued on; "Ron, stop all of this right now. I will tell you something very important and I need you to listen to me. Do you understand?" She didn't even wait for a response, barreling forward; she needed to keep this momentum. "Draco and I are dating. Yes, and no, he didn't not use any magic on me to make me suddenly fall for him. We have a mutual attraction for each other, we care about each other, and there isn't anything you can say or do that will make me leave him.

"Secondly, Draco is not and was not a bloody Death Eater. He joined our side before the war even started and was our informant since before Dumbledore's death. There's a lot more to his job as a mole than we know about, but I do know that he has always been on our side, even when he acted like he wanted to be Death Eater. So don't you dare call him one of those, because he never was one!" She took a deep breath, needing to calm herself before she lost too much control.

"Finally, Ron, I _used_ to love you, but I don't feel that way anymore. I care about you, deeply, but only as a sister would care about her brother. I'm not in love with you; we just…don't fit. I waited for you, but you never seemed to want me, so I moved on. You need to move on too; Ron, but you can't do that without help." His face twisted in confusion, the first expression he had been able to show since she had begun her tirade. "Ron…you're sick. I think you got hit with a badly casted curse during the war and it's been affecting your mind. I also think you've got mental trauma from the war and it's changed you. Not just physically but mentally. You're not the same person that you used to be."

Taking in a deep breath, she rubbed her eyes, trying to will away the ache that slowly began to throb behind them. Unfortunately, it didn't offer much relief.

"I'm…I'm not sick," he stammered, torn between confused anger and dread. He wasn't sick; he was perfectly normal, the same person that he had always been. There wasn't anything wrong with him at all. "I'm the same as always, Hermione, stop joking around." He chuckled, but it was half-hearted; a part, deep within his soul, believed her words.

"You're not!" she replied. "You're not the same person at all! Before, you were more patient, you were kinder, and you were more understanding. You've become unbalanced, unstable, and you're not the same person you used to be. You're not the person who used to be my best friend." Her voice grew harder, her heart aching as the tears of regret and loss threatened to fill her eyes. "Think about it." The words were softer this time, trying their hardest to appeal to the remnants of her friend within the shell before her. "You know…you know that something is wrong. You break through sometimes, you push past the broken pieces and you see that you're not the same."

She was lying, wasn't she? She was just making this up, trying to find excuses to avoid the topic of her dating Malfoy, right? He was perfectly normal, wasn't he? Ron turned away, trying to push away her words and think clearly; it'd been so hard to think clearly for such a long time.

Massaging his forehead, he paused. Did his unclear thinking mean that she was right? There was always this strange fog on the edge of his vision, sometimes blanketing him until he couldn't remember what he did or saw. It was like a part of him fell asleep, only to wake up confused and disoriented.

Is this what she meant? That some other, darker part of him was taking over and making him do all of these things he couldn't recall doing. Was he really as unstable as she said he was?

No, no, no…no, no, no! His fingers dug into his hair as his heart quavered with apprehension and pain. She wasn't right…he was normal; he was the same as always. No, tears threatened to leak from his eyes, she _was_ right...he _was_ sick.

He didn't know how long he stood there, fighting the part of him that yearned for normalcy and denial, trying to understand what she meant and battling the truth in her words. All he knew was that when he turned back to her, the fog was lifted for a short time and he saw the truth.

"I'm…I'm sick." It hurt so much to say those words, hurt even more to admit them to himself, and his voice shook. "Hermione…you're right…I'm sick…What…what have I done? What have I become?" His nails dug sharply into his head, the physical pain briefly overpowering the agony in his heart. He looked up at her, watching as the tears slid down her cheeks, and his stomach twisted in despair. "I'm sorry, Hermione…I'm so sorry, for everything," he choked out as the realization grew stronger, denial pushed away by self-conviction.

"Ron," she began, taking a small step towards him. "I…"

"Can I go back to how I used to be? Can…can this be fixed?" he demanded, panic making his eyes shine. "Can we do something about this…about me?"

She nodded, fighting a smile. She was happy now, happy that he finally saw it, accepted what had happened to him, and was willing to change things. He had probably known for some time, but it had been buried so deep within that it had needed to slowly crawl its way out for him to see it. "Yes," she half-sobbed. "Yes…please. St. Mungo's has a ward devoted to psychology; they can help fix this, but only if you want this. Do you really want this, Ron? Do you really want help? I need to know."

"Yes I do," he nearly shouted, arms falling to his sides, hands closing into fists to punch the air. "I…I want to be normal again. I don't want to be this way, I don't…I don't want to hurt you again. You mean so much to me," he admitted softly.

"Then get help," she answered. "Just ask; ask Professor McGonagall, ask your family, ask for help and you'll get it. We're your friends, your family, Ron and we want to help you. All you need to do is ask." She wiped at the tears, relief suddenly flooding her body as she acknowledged the fact that Ron was finally going to get the help he needed.

"Okay." He nodded, rubbing his face. "Okay," he repeated. "I will, I promise. I want to; I want to get help, to get better."

Their timing was perfect, just seconds after his last words were spoken, the bubble dissipated around Professor McGonagall and Draco. Upon seeing her tear stained face, Draco instantly rushed towards her, ready to block her from any blows Ron might try to deliver, while the Headmistress stood from her desk, crossing her arms sternly.

"Hermione," Draco began softly, confused by the mixture of tears and her smile. "What happened?"His words were quiet, almost as if he was embarrassed or afraid to show this tender side to the others. It was a side of him only for her.

"Professor McGonagall," Ron suddenly said loudly. He had taken the moment of confusion to gather his confidence and strength, to will himself to take one more step towards healing his mind.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" She stood over them as a stern mother might stand over and watch her children.

"I…I want help. Please," the tears welled up and flow freely down his face, "I need to get help. I…I…I need to go to St. Mungo's and get help."

Astonishment filled Draco's face and he quickly glanced over to Ron, and then back to Hermione. "You convinced the prat that he was mental?" he whispered, earning a smack from the woman in front of him.

":Honestly, Draco, you could use nicer terms," she scolded. Her frown quickly formed back into a smile, however, and she added; "Yes, I did."

"I don't know whether I should call you brilliant or bleedin' mad," the blond said, twisting his lips into a small smirk. "I still wanted some reason to beat the living shit out of him."

"Don't make me hit you again," she warned with a sharp jab of her finger to his sternum.

Still smirking, he leaned closer, whispering to her, "Maybe I like it."

Her cheeks flushed red and her hand landed hard on his arm. "Sod off," she muttered. "We're having an important discussion here, stop trying to change the topic."

Rubbing his arm, he rolled his eyes and turned back to McGonagall and Ron, who had remained silent the whole time. As much as he hated the Weasley, it would be nice to have him be a bit more normal from now on. It would make him a much worthier rival, too, if it ever came down to it. But he was so much more interesting when he was insane…Oh well.

"Maybe," Hermione said softly to Draco, "once Ron is better you two can become good friends?"

'_I hope he stays mental long enough for me to make Hermione forget she ever suggested that,'_ Draco thought, fighting the urge to sigh in exasperation.

"Mr. Weasley, are you sure about this? Do you really want to willingly go to St. Mungo's and receive medical aid?" the Headmistress asked, knowing full well that if the decision had been influenced in any way, Ron may later regret it and do more harm than good.

"Yes, I do," he answered firmly, seeing clearly for the first time in a long time. "Could...could you," he continued, cheeks red with slight embarrassment, "contact my family? I would like to tell them."

It had always been a rare sight to see Professor McGonagall smile; before and after the war she had always had the stern, thin-lipped expression on her face. Especially after the war. But now, her lips smoothly flowed into a gentle, motherly smile that made Hermione's heart warm.

"Certainly, Mr. Weasley," she answered before turning to look at Hermione and Draco. "Would you two please fetch Ginny Weasley for me? I think this would be better if we discussed this with the family at their home."

Draco gave a stiff nod and moved to tug Hermione from the room; things were getting a bit too dramatic and emotional for him and he was growing more and more inclined to roll his eyes than smile. Hermione, however, pulled away from him to move over to Ron. Leaning forward, she press a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I'm proud of you Ron, remember that. I'll try to visit you whenever I can, I promise."

The redhead could only nod, throat stuck as tears threatened once more. It had been such a long time since Hermione had been nice to him. It was a pleasant feeling.

The couple moved to leave, a foot in front of the door before Ron spoke, determination thick in his voice; "Hermione, I promise you that I'll get better. No matter how long it takes, I'll get better."

Smiling, Hermione nodded and opened the door. "I'll hold you to that," she answered before stepping out.

* * *

"Fucking hell that was more than enough dramatics to last me a year."

Rolling her now-dried eyes, Hermione dug her elbow into Draco's side. "What did you expect? We were confronting someone about their mental illness; did you think that it was going to be all smiles and laughing?"

"No," he answered, stepping out from the staircase leading to Professor McGonagall's office. "But, I was kind of hoping for a bit more violence. I didn't get to hit him enough at the Quidditch pitch."

"Speaking of that," she said, forcing him to turn around so she could examine his blistered and raw back, "we need to pay a visit to Madame Pomfrey. I think you should go ahead and I'll fetch Ginny."

"What do you need to see me for?"

Turning around, Hermione wasn't all too surprised to find Ginny, Harry, Luna and Blaise sitting by the entrance, looking as though they had come straight there from the pitch and had been waiting the whole time. Harry was pale and disheveled, looking as though he had just fought through a herd of Blast-Ended-Skrewts , which was very possible given the mob reaction the crowd had gotten after the fight had subsided. Ginny was equally pale and Hermione felt a pang at the raw apprehension in her friend's eyes. Even though she was aware of Ron's situation and knew that her brother needed help, he was still her brother and she loved and cared about him very much.

Blaise, on the other hand, looked mildly amused, although there was an inkling of concern in his eyes that she knew he reserved for Draco. The two were like Achilles and Patroclus, without the suggested sexual relationship, and while the two acted like 'men' around one another, she had realized, through time, that they were very much like brothers. Luna, all the while, looked like her mind was stuck in the clouds, the lion-head hood still tucked over her hair, with the scarf pooled in her lap, the cobra's head sticking out over her knee, tongue pointed out as though in a mocking gesture towards Hermione. She hated to admit it, but it made her laugh, inwardly, a bit.

"What's going on? What did McGonagall say?" Harry asked, standing up, leaving a lovely mess of mud on the ground from his Quidditch gear.

She had really wanted to relax a bit, change, get Draco fixed and then have this conversation at the Head's room over a cup of cocoa, but now it seemed it was inevitable and she was going to be spending more time in her mud covered clothes. At least she could mildly heal some of Draco's wounds.

"I think it's best if we talk in the Head's dormitory," she answered before turning to look at Ginny. 'But, you need to go on up, Gin. McGonagall wants to see you."

Questions slid through Ginny's eyes like a slideshow, one after another, and Hermione knew every single one that passed. But she wasn't the one to answer them; it would be Ron and McGonagall's jobs. Instead, she merely gestured to the stairs and watched as Ginny squared her shoulders, gave Harry a peck on the lips, and made her way up to learn about her brother's fate.

Turning to lead the way to the dormitories, Hermione knew that she should have felt relief wash over her body, but instead all she could feel was this great sense of loss; even though she knew she was doing the right thing, it still hurt.

It would always hurt.

* * *

**P.S. I know 'casted' isn't a word...I have yet to determine a 'special name' for a curse that was fucked up. Lol. 3**

P.P.S. I love you guys. Thanks again for your patience. 


	19. Head Held High

**Disclaimers of two sorts: 1) I own nothing, sadly, except for copies of the books and a copy of the Philosopher's Stone in Ancient Greek, and 2) there is a small section of smut ahead if you don't like. It's quite obvious when it starts, so skim over it if you don't want to read it. Just don't complain about not knowing, because I have warned you! **

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 19**

**Head Held High**

The discussion took place as she gently healed his wounds, not quite pressing her wand on the red and raw blisters, and as Luna took care of making hot cocoa for the cold and exhausted group. There were tears, it was always a given when one realized that they had to send a friend away because they weren't healthy anymore. There were some arguments, mostly raised by Harry, when she professed the guilt she felt behind Ron's mental state, and a lot of words of compassion and ease.

It took longer than expected, yet not as long as she feared, and soon enough the mud had dried and cracked off, to Draco's annoyance, the clothes had dried, and minds had finally eased. It was with a much calmer heart that Hermione was able to bade farewell to her friends and then, with much regained force, be able to drag Draco to the Hospital Wing in order to get the rest of his wound cleaned and properly healed. It was well after nightfall that she was able to finally collapse on the couch, throwing her shoes off at the door and tossing her outer-wear all over the place while Draco slouched on the armchair.

"Today was…"

"Horrible," he finished on a groan.

"I'm exhausted," she breathed, closing her eyes as she threw an arm on her face. "I almost forgot how draining dueling was."

"I think we need to start working out more," he answered. "We had more stamina during the war."

_That was different_, was what she wanted to say. But she knew that today, the situation at the pitch, had been no different than fighting Death Eaters. Ron had been aiming to harm and kill, completely lost in his broken mind.

"Next week," she said, pushing into a sitting position as her stomach growled; she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast before the match and a couple of the small cookies Luna had found to put with the cocoa. "Right now, I want to have supper, a shower, and sleep."

He made a sound of agreement, shifting in his chair as she moved to the kitchen, snapping for him to get off his arse and help her out.

After much discussion, they finally had a small but satisfying dinner in sleepy silence, both too tired for words. As she cleaned the dishes, she jumped a the sound of a sudden, loud thunk. She spun around in time to watch as Draco dropped his second leg protector onto the carpet with as much joy as tossing the trash.

Scowling at the mess of mud on the ground, she pointed a soap-coated fork in his direction. "You're cleaning that mess up," she scolded, tossing the fork back into the sink before it dripped all over the floor.

"Yes, my almighty Queen and overlord," he responded with added pomp and circumstance, making sure to bow extra low.

In the time that it took her to finish the dishes, he had stripped off most of his gear and was making his way up the stairs. At the base, she called up to him, stopping him in his tracks. "Would you mind some company?"

His smirk was more than enough for an answer.

The shower was already running by the time she managed to gather a towel, strip down, and step into the bathroom, condensation growing on the mirror and steam rising to dance at the ceiling from the heat. Placing her towel on the rack next to the stall, she slipped into the shower behind him, reaching out to press her naked body against his in the rawest, most exposed and open hug she had ever experienced. It tugged at her heart and made her blood rush. Pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades, please that the wound was already healed from Pomfrey's magical skill, she tickled his stomach with her fingers before pulling away.

Turning around, he looked down at her, lifting a hand to brush his thumb against her cheek, one of the most intimate and gentle touches he had ever done with her. Intimacy, she had quickly learned, was not based around how sexual the action was, but how much tenderness and love was raw and surfacing when the action was performed. At this moment, the raw love in his eyes made this situation the most intimate in her entire life.

Pressing a kiss to his palm, she allowed herself to be pulled into his arms for a tight embrace, resting her head on his shoulder as the hot water beat down on their bodies, hair sticking to one another's skin.

Smiling, she pulled back and squeezed his hand. "So, how about you wash my back and I was yours?" she asked softly reaching for the shampoo.

Gently, tenderly, they massaged each other's scalps with shampoo covered hands, easing away any threatening headaches with nimble fingers. Slowly, they explored and massaged each other's bodies, squeezing and easing away knots of tension, putting subtle amounts of pressure on particularly sensitive points. Their skin prickled, over sensitized from the water, from the close proximity and each other's touches, and soon enough each touch cause an instant jerk in response as a prickling sensation crawled over their flesh.

She moved first, one of the few and rare times she dared initiate a kiss. Her lips tenderly brushed against his, barely needing to touch in order to get a groan out of him. He shuddered as her nipples, hard and flushed, tickled his chest, dancing along his skin as her lips skimmed over his.

In the shower, surrounded by the steam, the heat, and the rushing water, they found each other. They gently pressed and probed, kissed and touched as they slowly pushed towards a higher, better peak. The touches pushed the woes and pains out of their bodies, while the water washed them down the drain. It was slowly, sweet and tender, soft passion that slowly rose as their hearts ached and beat faster and faster.

The cool tiles against her back were a sharp contrast compared to his flushed body and hot water, sending frissons of pleasure racing through her body, nails digging into his shoulders in response. Suddenly, swiftly, almost unexpectedly, her warm heat enveloped his, closing around him like her arms around his body, clinging feverishly to him. Each movement was smooth and liquid, each caress growing hotter and heavier as they moved in unison, aching, needing, and running towards the final climax.

It was as though every knot in their bodies loosened as once, euphoria washing over them as they arched and twisted, electric heat bathing and consuming them as they suddenly stopped, reveling in the feeling of the sensual implosion taking place within their bodies. They clung to one another, yearning for more yet afraid to feel more, digging and clawing, gasping and whispering, touching and kissing as pleasure consumed them.

Slowly they unraveled as a pure calmness slid over them, sliding down with each water droplet slipping down their flushed flesh. A relaxed, loose feeling swept over them, and as they finished up and clambered out, each movement felt difficult yet easy, as though weighed down by their bodies heavy with exhaustion, yet not inhibited by tightened, stiff muscles.

Naked and shivering, they slid into her bed, pressing against one another for heat, trying to shove the gooseflesh and possible nightmares away. Pressing her face on his chest, eyes shut, she reveled in the sound of his breathing, slowing down as sleep overtook him, enjoying the feeling of his skin against hers and the feel of his breath tickling her neck.

Smiling softly, she knew, perhaps realizing for the first time, that no matter what happened, no matter how hard life could be, she would always be able to feel loving warmth and security in his arms. He would keep her safe, and she promised to herself that she would try to keep him safe.

Chuckling at the clichéd romanticism of it all, the last thoughts on her mind before drifting off was that, no matter how hard the situation was, love could and would conquer all.

* * *

A loud scream tore through the quiet dungeons, sending any small rodents nearby squealing in fear at the rage behind the sound. Loud, wild crashing followed the shriek, glass shattering and wood cracking as the source of the sound tore apart a lone, unused Potions room. At the doorway to said room stood two girls, staying well out of the way of the flying objects, impatient, irritated, and fearful that if the wrong word was said, the next thing being levitated and thrown could be them.

Another scream echoed and the duo at the door looked at each other, trying hard to ignored the shouted curses and expletives to listen for any sign of a Prefect or Professor; as much as they were all for supporting and helping their friend when she was clearly going through some personal problems, they were not in the mood to be given detention for something they weren't participating in.

"That fucking witch," the girl in the room snarled, swishing her wand, making a table suddenly snap in half. "Can you believe it? Can you fucking _believe_ it?"

Unfortunately, Daphne could. She wasn't too sure about Maryse, her companion at the door, but Daphne Greengrass was more than ready to believe what she had seen a few hours ago. It had taken some time to hunt down her friend, after Pansy had run cursing and screaming from the pitch after the fight had broken up; Pansy, in her Death Eater training, had been the one in charge of finding all of Hogwarts' little niches and secrets that few students knew about. Astoria had given up about halfway through the search, saying something about a certain Ravenclaw who wanted to show her the ultimate pleasure.

Daphne never could understand the reason behind her sister's promiscuity, but for the sake of avoiding arguments, she never bothered to mention it to her parents; she merely kept it filed away to be used as blackmail.

For the time being, however, she kept watch at the door, rolling her eyes every time Maryse jumped at the sound of something big crashing in the room. Honestly, it was better to stay quiet and let Pansy rant and rave.

"I can't…did you see that? Did you see what the fucking bitch did? She…she…she fucking _kissed _him!" The words were ended with another loud crash as an empty pickling jar made its way to the unused fireplace, glass glittering on the stone floor. "She kissed him!" she repeated, voice higher, shriller, as if every time she repeated it, she felt more shock and more rage.

Daphne felt Pansy was being a little too melodramatic, but, it was Pansy after all and the girl thrived on dramatics and gossip. After watching a weird Muggle high school movie, Daphne figured Pansy would be the 'popular' girl nobody really liked that wanted everything and had the worst attitude in the whole of London.

Daphne was not sure why she put up with Pansy anymore; it felt like the only reason she stayed was because of their long friendship and she wanted to know what the conniving girl was planning next. Just in case.

"I can't fucking believe it!" Pansy said, ending on a loud scream before turning to the desk, breaking into quarters with several slashing movements of her wand.

"So then, do something about it."

The girls at the door turned to see Astoria coming out from a side passage, clothes loosely fumbled together, blouse badly buttoned as though she had been in a rush to leave the poor Ravenclaw boy. Perhaps her quest for ultimate pleasure had ended in ultimate disappointment.

"Well that was quick," Maryse quipped with a half smile. "What, did he come to early or was he too small?"

"Honestly," Astoria scoffed, unbuttoning her shirt in order to properly fix it, "he was terrible. I faked the whole way through. And you know what they say about big hands and feet? Well, in his case at least, it's a lie." Yawning, she stepped into the doorway as her blouse fell open, exposing herself for the world to see. But then again, that was Astoria; unashamed and quiet the opposite of quiet, calm Daphne. "So, Pansy, Muddie kissed Draco. What are you going to do? Are you just going to spend your days finding other classrooms to destroy or are you going to do something about it?"

Pansy stopped in her tracks, sending glares of various severity to Astoria as the speaker began buttoning her blouse and fixing her clothes. "Obviously I plan on doing something about it," the dark-haired harpy snapped, shoving her wand into the pocket of her jeans.

Daphne hated to admit it, but thank Circe that Astoria had shown up. While her sister was conniving, cruel, and very much like the sirens of Homer's The Odyssey, she knew what words would be able to calm Pansy when she was caught up in a rage.

"Then what?" Astoria asked, crossing her arms to lean against the doorframe. It was strange, when Astoria first joined them, she was like an eager minion, excited at the prospect of Hermione and letting Pansy take the reins. Suddenly, almost as though spending time with Pansy had shaped and shifted her personality; she had become smoother, darker, and crueler, slowly taking the reins from Pansy in order to take over control. It was strange; the youngest Greengrass girl was failing in school, but quickly learning what it took to become a venomous, manipulative siren. Daphne's grandmother would have been proud.

"I…I don't know yet," Pansy fumbled, the rage lightening just the slightest, giving way to a dim realizing that, in spite of all of her shouting, she had no true plan of action. "But, it will be something big."

Astoria finished tucking her blouse into her jeans, adding the final touches to her outfit before stepping further into the room, gesturing for her sister and Maryse to follow so they could close the door and get some privacy.

"Why not start small?" Maryse suggested hopefully; her time spent with Daphne, discussing Pansy's growing jealousy and Astoria's increasing cruelty in the dark made her slowly realize that she just couldn't side with Pansy for much longer. She didn't fully care for Granger much, more because she was jealous of her grades and her hair; she had always had this plain straight hair and envied Granger's wild curls. But, that was aside the point, because she knew that Pansy was going to take things too far, especially with Astoria leading the way.

"I suppose that could work, "Astoria agreed calmly while Pansy fumed. She wanted something big, extravagant, and some crazy enough that they would terrify the piss out of Granger. "We could transfigure her clothes, mess with her hair, maybe even booby-trap her desks and food."

"What will that accomplish?" Pansy snapped, her eyes were wide in shock at the idea that they would take things so slow.

"First," Astoria explained, waving her wand to fix a desk and plopping her bottom on the top of it, "it will let her know that someone is on to her and that they don't approve. It may seem like little things, but they'll quickly make her life a living hell. Second, we just start small, slowly get bigger and meaner until it's one big bang. We let her get more nervous and upset each day until we finally deal the killing blow." Licking her lips, she crossed her legs and leaned back, putting weight on her arms extended behind her. "Think of it as slowly torturing someone to death."

It took Pansy a moment to catch on, stupid as the girl was, and finally, it was as though a light flicked on in her brain. Daphne and Maryse exchanged worrying glances, knowing that nothing good was about to come out of this. "I like it," she hissed, repairing a desk to use as a chair like Astoria, "I like it a lot."

"Good," the youngest girl answered, reaching up to pull her hair from her face.

Sighing heavily, Daphne gestured for Maryse to follows the other two's actions, repairing instead each a chair before plopping onto them. As much as she wanted to leave, she needed to hear and maybe try to lessen the 'punishment' as much as she could.

"So how do you go about starting this?" Maryse asked, curiosity gnawing at her.

"It's quite simple," Astoria answered. "We do little things to her every day, without her knowing its use, that make her life a living hell. Of course, Pansy will be doing most of it, since she's the best caster out of all of us, and she has the most classes with her."

"I want to put something sticky in her hair," Pansy cackled, grinning maliciously at the thought of Granger having to cut off a huge chunk of her hair.

"Too childish," Astoria replied. "We can do simple stuff, like hiding her notes every time she gets up in class, or maybe casting a tongue-twister curse on her every time she tries to give an answer. You do know how to perform wordless magic, right?"

"Mostly the minor spells," Pansy answered. "I'm terrible at the big ones, but I should be able to cast a tongue-twister curse; it doesn't require much magic."

"Perfect." Astoria let out a soft laugh, one that men might consider sultry and women called unnecessarily sexual, but Daphne found it to be far more terrifying than anything, filled with malice and spite.

She listened as they discussed their plans, almost plotting out every class and every hour of the day, finding numerous ways to torture the unsuspecting Gryffindor girl, and she tried her hardest not to lash out at them for their savagery. It didn't make sense to her; while she knew that Pansy harbored an almost obsessive love for Draco, one he helped fuel for the first four years at Hogwarts, she always thought that the girl had remained relatively realistic about things. Now, however, she was going overboard and it not only grated Daphne's nerves, but it got her on edge, too. She couldn't help but think that, while she felt bad for Granger, she was glad it was someone who was able to stand on her own two feet and fight back. Out of all of the girls in the school, Hermione was unrivaled in skill and expertise; she knew her way around curses and spells like Daphne knew how to guide through a shopping mall. The only ones who came close – yet so far – to matching her were Ginny Weasley and, surprisingly, Luna Lovegood. Aside from them, however, Daphne figured that Pansy wouldn't stand a chance in a duel with Granger.

"So," she asked slowly as the conversation seemed to fade away, "when do you plan on doing all of this?" She needed to know, had to know just how much time she had to try and get them to change their minds. Honestly, shrinking her skirt in the Great Hall? Casting non-removable writing charms on her tables? Dropping firebombs in her cauldron during Potions? This was abuse, and she knew that Granger didn't deserve any of this.

"Probably Monday," Pansy answered with a grin. "That way I have all day tomorrow to practice! Astoria's going to help too, right?"

The youngest member of their group answered with a short nod and a slick smile that said more than words. Daphne was reminded of a pleased and sly serpent, imaging the smile on its face as it slithered in the grass towards unsuspecting prey. She almost expected her sister's tongue to dart out and wiggle, hissing as she tried to taste the scent of her nearing prey.

Her sister, true to her nature, was very much a Slytherin.

"Come now, it's getting late," Pansy suddenly said, jumping to her feet with renewed vigor and excitement."We need to be up bright and early tomorrow to get enough practice in. Daphne and Maryse, I expect you two to be there too." She added to the quieter section of their group.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Daphne gritted out as Maryse nodded, the other three girls getting to their feet and leaving the broken classroom behind.

Slowly shutting the door behind her, Daphne rubbed her stomach, trying to will away the knots forming within her. A part of her knew that she couldn't just sit by and watch as Pansy and Astoria tormented Granger, but she had no idea what they would do to her if they found out she ratted them out. She reminded herself daily that Bellatrix was the one to personally train Pansy and Astoria in the art of interrogation and torture.

Memories flooded back, filled with screams and begging, and she shivering suddenly, trying to will them away.

"Daphne." Pansy's voice suddenly pulled her from her thoughts and she suddenly felt grateful.

"Yes?"

"Where's the Veritaserum you said you would get for us?"

Silence followed, only broken by their footsteps on the stone floor. She bit back a sigh; Pansy had seemed to have forgotten about the Veritaserum for so long that Daphne had hoped she would forget that she had asked for it. From the look her conniving sister sent back to her, she knew that Astoria was the one to remind Pansy of the potion.

"It's in my trunk," Daphne admitted quietly, lowering her voice as they rounded a corner and found themselves in front of the Slytherin entrance.

They kept quiet as Astoria spoke the password, moving their way through the crowded common room. Daphne saw Pansy's hackles raise as a group of students talked avidly about the afternoon's happenings at the Quidditch pitch. It took a calm but firm hand on her shoulder to calm her down enough to prevent another ranting session.

Once in Pansy's Prefect room, strewn on her bed or the carpeted floor, the girls began their discussion again on how to get Granger.

Picking a loose piece of fabric from the carpet, Daphne tried to ignore the conversation. She had a bad feeling about this and she didn't like it one bit. She had to try to communicate in some way to Draco about what was happening…he would help her.

Only if Pansy and Astoria didn't find out that it was her; she would be as dead as Granger.

* * *

She stepped out of the Tower that Monday morning expecting the same day as usual. She intended to go down to the Great Hall with her hand clasped in his, reaffirming what they had shown the school on Saturday, then go to class without any problem.

When she didn't expect was, only a few minutes after sitting down for breakfast, her goblet of pumpkin juice to literally explode in a shower of orange liquid.

"What the hell?" she cursed, accepting several napkins from Dean, using them to mop up her face.

"Looks like somebody sent a nice little explosion hex to your pumpkin juice," Seamus said, stating quite the obvious.

Rolling her eyes, she finished soaking up any remaining pumpkin juice from her hair; Hermione leaned forward and examined the remains of the golden goblet. "Obviously," she answered. "I expected to be harassed, but exploding my juice? Honestly, how immature."

"Well, you've pissed off a lot of girls," Dean said.

The twosome were quite calm about the whole situation concerning her and Draco; when she had asked about it a few minutes earlier, they admitted that they had had their suspicions since Christmas dinner. Apparently, they had had a bet going on with a few other students to see how long it would take the couple to come out. It seemed like Neville Longbottom had actually won that one by the ecstatic look on his face and suddenly bulging pockets.

Looking around the Great Hall, she wasn't surprised to see a few shocked faces staring in her directions, and even less surprised to see groups of students huddled together, whispering like buzzing bees about the latest gossip topic. What surprised her the least was the absence of Harry and Ginny; she could only assume that Professor McGonagall had told Ginny about the circumstances and she was currently with her family, with Harry supporting her as best as he could.

It was, she reminded herself, for the best that Ron gets help.

Ron was the other subject of gossip swirling around; she heard hisses of his name, quiet murmurs and muted looks that told her the students were curious about the situation concerning the youngest male Weasley. It seemed like everyone believed that he had been expelled. If only they knew the truth, then _that_ would make a shocking rumour. But anyone who knew about it said nothing; it wasn't fair to Ron or his family.

Post-pumpkin juice incident, it seemed like nothing else wanted to explode from her plate. Standing up and brushing off any extra crumbs, she turned to greet Draco as he came over from the Slytherin table, Blaise following.

It was the sudden shocked look on his face followed by a sudden breeze by her thighs that had her head lowering down. With a loud scream, her hands flew downwards in an attempt to keep as much as her modesty in tack as her skirt suddenly shrank to the size of a large belt. Immediately, she felt eyes on her, boring into her, staring and examining her suddenly exposed lower body.

It was mortifying, it was painful, and it hurt to wonder just what the students thought of her body. She didn't want them to look, didn't want them to see, and certainly did not want to hear their laughter as several students began chuckling loudly throughout the hall. She caught sight of a few looks of pity and sympathy, and she didn't want that either. She just wanted her skirt to go back to its normal size.

Tears pricked at her eyes and she blinked them away, trying her hardest not to cry in embarrassment as Draco slid off his coat and wrapped it around her waist in expert speed and gentleness.

"Fucking bastards," she heard Blaise curse as he looked around the Hall, trying to find the asshole who dared do such a thing.

They quickly managed to make their way out of the Great Hall, with Blaise carrying her books and Draco wrapping her in his arms. She heard footsteps behind her and could only guess that Luna was rushing her way over. She heard the laughter slowly subside with a well done glare by Draco, and she could only feel even more grateful, even though her heart was currently twisting painfully in her chest, memories of her childhood coming back for the first time since her First Year.

She was reminded harshly of the way she had been picked on during primary school, the way the students would pull her hair, push her around, and call her names. She remembered dimly the day when someone decided it would be quite fun to put gum in her hair.

Wiping at her eyes, trying her hardest not to cry over the embarrassment, she allowed Draco to steer her towards a dark corner, where he could unwrap the cloak and keep her decent enough while she restored her skirt to its normal size.

"What kind of bastards would do such a thing?" Blaise cursed again, clearly very unhappy at the thought of his girlfriend's best friend being magically pantsed in front of the entire school.

"I'm going back in there and I'm going to fucking find the bitch who did this, and I'm going to make them fucking pay," Draco snarled.

She looked up and saw the barely restrained fury in his eyes; they were like a quicksilver fire, threatening to overflow and burn anyone who pissed him off even more. She looked down and saw that his hands shook with his anger, the cloak rippling lightly in his grip, and slowly, she felt her humiliation subside and ease into a strange combination of anger and softness, a strange sense of passive-aggressiveness that slowly consumed her body.

"I'm pissed off too," she admitted quietly, speaking for the first time since she let out the loud shriek of shock a few minutes before. "But, please, don't do anything rash." She wanted to calm him down, to avoid any further confrontation, and slowly, she knew that she had to deal with this while keeping her head up. She had been bullied before in the past, hell, Harry Potter, her best male friend in the whole world, had even admitted he greatly disliked her in their First Year. She realized, as the humiliation and anger faded away, that handling the situation using irrational rage would only make things worse. "But," she continued as she placed a hand on Draco's, "we can't give them what they want."

"And that is?" His voice trembled as he spoke, shivering undertones of malice aimed towards the caster.

"They want a reaction," Luna suddenly piped up, cutting off Hermione. For the first time in Hermione's life, she saw something other than the usual aloof expression on the girl's face. Although there were no hard lines of anger, she saw that the girl's eyes had steeled and her face had grown sterner. She, too, was fighting back her rage, and she was doing the best job out of all of them. Hermione couldn't help but feel a little bit happy about that; it meant that Luna truly and honestly cared about her.

"Well I'll give them a fucking reaction," Draco hissed, pulling back on his cloak as Blaise moved to hand Hermione her belongings.

"You can't do this," both girls said in unison, both pushing back their urge to kill in order to push some sense of rationality through the thick fog threatening to blanket their minds.

"They want us angry," Luna said.

"They want me to get upset," Hermione added. "Whoever did this wants a reaction out of us, mainly me. If I let you go in there and get angry, then they'll get what they want. If I start crying in the middle of the Great Hall, they'll get what they want. I can't let them have that."

"So what are you going to do? Are you just going to let them get away with it?" He gestured violently towards the doors of the Great Hall, where a few heads were peeking around the corner to see just what was going on. As he spun around to them, like frightened mice, the heads popped back out of sight with the faintest of squeals. "Are you just going to let them think they've won?"

"I want to make them pay too," Hermione admitted. "I really want them to pay for humiliating me like this, but we can't do that. I'll have to handle this with grace and keep my head up; I don't want them thinking they're putting me down."

Draco fidgeted on the spot, flexing his muscles, feeling the anger curl down his spine in electric waves as he fought back the urge to go back into the Great Hall, find the student who did this, and literally hex the flesh of their face off. He knew how, too, unfortunately. But, her gentle touch and words slowly eased their way into his mind. He didn't want the fury to abate, he didn't want to feel his muscles suddenly relax and the fog to fade away, and he most certainly did not want to be talked out of killing the bastard who did this. But she was growing more successful by the minute.

"You're a very strong woman, Hermione," Luna said softly, her body leaning a little more towards Blaise, as though the very closeness of them helped calm his rage.

Smiling to the blonde, Hermione squeezed Draco's hand. "So are you," she answered, thinking of just how much Luna must have suffered in her first years at Hogwarts before meeting the Golden Trio. The girl had been pushed aside, shunned from everyone just as Hermione had been in primary school. She wasn't sure just how the Ravenclaws behaved, but she was certain that they, at times, had tormented the poor girl. She was glad that Luna had befriended them, happy to have the sweet girl in her life. It was only then that a part of her acknowledged the possibility that Luna's friendship with Harry and the gang had potentially saved her from further torture.

After all, it was a golden rule not to torment or bother any friends of the Golden Trio. Mainly any friend of Harry Potter's.

But, it seemed like someone was willing to ignore that unspoken rule and it probably helped the enemy that Harry had not been in the Great Hall when it had happened. She didn't want to imagine what it would have been like to calm down both Harry and Draco; both men had extremely volatile tempers.

"Draco," Hermione said softly, squeezing his hand in a way of calming his temper, "please. Let me deal with this, okay? I can handle this on my own; I'm a grown woman. I can't let a few childish spells ruin my day."

At that point in time, however, she didn't realize how she may come to regret those words.

* * *

After taking several more minutes calming Draco down and getting him to understand she could deal with the harassment on her own, they finally made their way to the first class of the day; Double Potions.

Normally, the class would have been uneventful except for the occasional, and usual, explosion of something in Neville's cauldron. However, this day was turning out to be more and more unusual.

She would have been happy about the situation; she was seated with Draco, happily concocting away and rather pleased that they made an efficient team. It was going well, the potion was brewing nicely, Neville seemed to be doing somewhat decent, if the lack of foul odours and explosions was any indicator, and class seemed to fly by.

It was the walking in the halls that had bothered her; the whispers and buzzing words, the way students watched with a scrutinizing eye as she held tightly onto Draco's hand, trying her hardest not to think of what the students were talking about. The rumours were now a mix of her and Draco's relationship and her magically shrinking skirt incident in the Great Hall; it was the only thing that made sense.

And, of course, the curiosity about Ron.

For the most part, she was able to ignore the stares and murmurs, but, she hated to admit, it was nerve-wracking and slowly tearing away at her patience and calm state. Therefore, Potions offered the soothing relief that she needed.

At least, it did until the students began moving forward, vials in hand to give to Professor Slughorn. Like always, all of the students crowded in the middle path to the Professor's desk, trying to be first or last, trying to avoid having the other students giggle at their botched concoctions.

There were so many students that she had no clue which one did it; it would be impossible to trace the action back to any one person. But, she did have a feeling it was a Slytherin, some of whom had openly protested against her relationship with Draco. Let's just say old feelings die hard. However, before she ever had thoughts of accusations, things were going well and her mood had become increasingly brighter.

So, when she sat back down at her seat, glad to have finally been able to hand in her potion, and began cleaning up as Draco returned unused ingredients, she was very surprised when her cauldron suddenly exploded in a big burst of purple fire.

Cursing loudly, several students jumped back in fear as she leapt to her feet, pulling out her wand and summoning water to put out the flames that were both in her cauldron and licking at her robes.

Just as she managed to put out the last flame, Draco showed up at her side, looking angrier than ever at the sight of her burnt cauldron. It would have to be replaced, she realized dimly, and she really didn't have the money at the moment to buy a new one; the prices had gone up due to the negative impact on the economy the war had had.

"Fucking hell," Draco shouted, earning a stern look from Slughorn, "who the fuck did this? The blond spun around, glaring at the students who had watched the scene with a mixture of shock and fear. "Who did this?" he repeated, again without an answer.

Glancing around the room, trying to find any telltale sign that might give away a student's motives, she shook her head when there seemed to be no sign of a perpetrator.

"Draco, leave it be; it could be mixed something incorrectly and it was just a matter of time before this happened," she suggested, knowing full well that they hadn't messed up in any part of the brewing process. If they had had, the vial she had given to Slughorn would have exploded as well.

"But," the blond began, still glaring at the classroom. "_Somebody_ did this!"

She wanted to be as angry as him, wanted to rant and rave, to shout at the whole room just to make sure that the student who did this got the hint, but she couldn't. It wouldn't help her attempts in appearing unaffected by their attempts to mortify and torment her. Besides, she couldn't blame the others for the actions of one bastard.

"Cauldrons blow up all of the time," she explained, reaching out to grab his arm and calm him down once more. "It happens; this just happens to be the first time for me."

He spun around at her words, raged glowing brightly in his eyes, and she sighed heavily. "Honestly," she breathed, "don't start blaming the class because we messed up in the process. It happens, we just have to deal with it. Okay?"

The look of disbelief in her eyes was expected and she subtly gave him a look of her own; she knew that someone had done this, but she didn't want them to know that. Let the student keep trying, let them make more attempts at ruining her day; they would slip up eventually and then, she would make them pay.

Nobody messed with Hermione Granger.

* * *

**So ladies and gentlemen, Chapter 19 has been concluded.  
The main reason I'm putting this author's note here is to basically say that I plan on going back and fixing the abomination that is Chapter 18. I had one reviewer say that it wasn't my best, and I completely agree. So please, if anyone else thinks so, if you think it didn't go great or anything, let me know. I won't be mad, because I'm already mad enough at that chapter that it can't get worse, haha.**

******Btw, this chapter may have felt brief, but there's much more coming to Hermione in the upcoming chapters. I know I seemed to skim over things, like push aside the situation with Ron and all, but really, we've focused on it for so long, it's nice to get it done and over with. It'll just be a passing thought from now on, with little things indicating towards his situation. **

I also wanted to quickly say thank you for everyone who stuck around with me throughout the waiting period, for everyone who was patient, and amazingly loyal. You guys are the best; I got more reviews for 18 than I had expected, and it's because you guys are so damn awesome.

**Thanks everyone! 3**

**P.S. I remember that somebody commented saying it seems to drive away from the story having the Author's note at the end, I hope that the triple-quadruple dividers help a bit.  
**


	20. Writing on the Desk

**Chapter 20**

**The Writing on the Desk**

_Mudblood._

_ Filth._

_ Slag._

_ Whore._

_ Close your legs, you bloody slut._

_ Is the only way you can get a man through a love potion? Pathetic._

She stared down at the desk, covered in various insults and expletives, torn between wanting to cry and break something. She thought that she had gotten used to the word "Mudblood" during the war, having heard it said every second word during her fights with the Death Eaters. She thought that she had steeled herself against any and all attacks by the students, verbal or physical, but the combination of the whispering in the halls and the sight of the desk was slowly breaking down her resolve.

Thus far today, she had had another goblet of pumpkin juice explode during lunch, someone dared shrink her blouse into the size of a minute tube top, and several Slytherins had 'bumped' into her in the halls, muttering several rude words under their breath. It also bothered her that when she stepped into Charms, her usual spot was flipped upside down magically and it had taken her several minutes to revert the spell and be able to sit at her spot.

She felt the pitying looks on the teacher's faces, knew that they were concerned for her welfare, and Professor McGonagall had even come up to her at one point in time to see if she wanted any assistance. But she had kindly denied their help, not wanting to give the teachers more work than they already had.

So, she had tried to grin and bear it, she had tried to push away the feelings of anxiety, pain, and anger that threatened to overwhelm her every time something seemed to go wrong on its own. But now, as she stared down at her desk, covered in those words, she felt tears prick at her eyes and it took several blinks to push them away.

Skirt and blouse shrinking, she could deal with; the pain from that was a more temporary mental one, it was brief and only lasted for a short while after the event occurred. Things blowing up, that was more physical, and she knew that going down to the Great Hall for supper would end with something else exploding on the table, so she planned to avoid it and eat in the Heads' Tower.

But this, these words that had haunted her, words that never described her but seemed to become a part of her, the words that dug deep down, latched onto her heart with rusty nails that refused to budge, this hurt.

Rubbing her face, she let out a low, shuddering breath, trying to push away the pain long enough to see clearly and try to discover just who, amongst her fellow students, would dare do such a thing.

There were no snickering faces amongst the students in her Double Transfiguration class, but there was something she had taken notice of.

Thus far, all of these happenings either occurred in crowded areas, where the students were mixed, or in her classes that had Slytherins, as well. At least this would enable her to shorten the list of possible culprits. It had to either be a Slytherin – very likely – or a Gryffindor – quite unlikely, since most Gryffindors in her year had been surprisingly supportive. Then again, a number of them had been present at the New Year's party, and another number had fought with Draco in the war and knew that he had switched side. Of course, she knew that there were doubts, but she also knew that they were more likely to take out their frustration on Draco rather than one of their own.

Even Parvati and Lavender, the gossip queens and mischief makers that they were, had been more sympathetic about the situation. Lavender had even cried over Ron, upset that the man she once dated was clearly becoming another strange one altogether. Hermione wanted to tell her the truth, but she just couldn't until Ginny gave the go ahead, and even then, she thought that Ginny was the only one in the school who had the right to discuss Ron's mental health with anyone else.

Therefore, as she sat there, staring down at the desk, she concluded that the culprit was most definitely a seventh year Slytherin.

Waving her wand over the writing, she attempted a few erasing charms, muttering a low curse to herself when she realized it was a non-removable writing charm. It would only go away with time and no other magic would be able to make it disappear earlier than that. She assumed that it would probably last the length of the lesson, so that it would not be seen by any other student from any other class. That succeeded in only increasing her frustration.

Hearing footsteps come up, getting a brief waft of a musky autumn scent, she quickly covered her desk as much as she could with parchment, quills and books of all assortment, afraid of Draco's reactions to the words. She couldn't let him see; she didn't want him to worry more than he already was. She could deal with this on her own, she didn't need to get him involved too; he had his own things to take care of at the moment.

He seemed none the wiser, focusing intently on the class while keeping his arm near hers, fingers occasionally reaching out to brush against her skin. She appreciated the tender touch, enjoyed the way his warm fingers felt against her skin, and it succeeded in calming her for a moment, drawing her attention away from the writing covered desk.

As class went by, the tried her hardest to focus on the lecture, practicing when they were told to practice, dutifully taking notes when it was required, and she kept her attention on anything but what was currently under the notebooks. It was hard, her mind kept drifting and, as depression and self-hate sank in, she occasionally debated with herself whether the words were the truth or not. How could she be so sure? One really never knew their own qualities only somebody else described them. She wondered if they were true, wondered if they really were a part of her.

Her eyes were glazing over before she knew it, a thin, watery film covering her vision, and she knew that if she didn't quickly focus on something else, the water would be flowing freely down her cheeks, hot streaks of pain and self-hate.

She focused on the warmth of the man beside her, letting herself gently lean into him, a subtle gesture that made her heart pitter-patter as she felt his soothing heat radiate off of his body. She focused on his tickling fingers, letting the feel of the smooth, slightly calloused tips ease away her tension and pain.

Sometimes, she realized, she needed his support just as much as he sometimes needed hers.

Once class ended, she took her time removing her books, trying to determine whether the writing was still there or not, without letting Draco see. She let out a sigh of relief when she moved the parchment and saw that the words had disappeared at some point in time during the class.

Collecting her stuff quicker now, she removed the last piece just in time to watch _Mudblood_ fade from the center of her desk. Quickly, she glanced over to Draco, pleased that he was too caught up in a conversation with Blaise to notice the last word on her desk.

Sending the two Slytherin men a thin smile, she reached over and gave Draco a small peck on the cheek. "I'm heading to the library," she said softly, glad that classes for the day were finally over. "I have some books I need for an essay in my Muggle Studies class."

The look in Draco's eyes said he wanted to go with her, but she needed some peace and quiet to herself to collect her thoughts and emotions, to file everything away in their own little folders and tuck them into the storage unit at the back of her mind. She wouldn't be able to do that if he were hovering around, trying to bring her spirits up while threatening the entire student population for the actions of, she believed, one or two Slytherin assholes.

"I'll be okay," she said in response to his unspoken question. "I'll just grab the books and I'll see you back in the Tower, okay?"

At Blaise's not-so-subtle nudge, Draco finally acquiesced and reached out, pressing his hand against her cheek to rub his thumb on her smooth skin. "Okay, but not before I get my kiss." There was a sudden mischievous look in his eyes that had her stomach dropping and abdomen tightening with liquid heat.

"But, I already gave you a kiss," she answered, keeping quiet; half of the class was still in the room, chatting away as they packed their stuff or just relaxing on their desks, glad that the day was finally over. She felt her cheeks heat up as a red blush made its way over them.

"Oh no," he teased, leaning down to place his other hand on her face, cupping face now. "That wasn't a kiss." His words got quieter he lowered his mouth towards hers. "_This_ is."

When his lips pressed against hers, she couldn't stop the molten heat from overwhelming him. Just the slightest touch of his lips on hers made her heart beat wildly, as though it was trying to break out of her chest, and every nerve ending lit up with an electric fire. All pain, all despair and self-hate was rapidly pushed out of her body, quickly replaced by the love and passion he poured into it with the touch of his lips.

She bit back a moan as he slowly licked the crease of her mouth, letting out a shuddering breath as pulses of ecstasy slid their way down her spine when he slowly separated from her. His eyes were a burning heat, liquid silver that caressed her very core with one glance. Her face was glazed, cheeks red and eyes distant, as though she was caught in some sexual fantasy in some distant land, and her lips were plump and red, looking ever so kissable.

Grinning, he let out a quiet chuckle, leaning forward to nibble lightly on her lower lip while she was off her guard, delighting in the way her body rippled under his touch, like a smooth wave.

"_That_, my sweet Gryffindor, was a kiss," he murmured, leaning forward to whisper the word in her ears.

His words suddenly pulled her out from her reverie and she felt the blush rise in her face, not from passion but from mortification at the sound of the catcalls several Gryffindors were making. She could dimly hear Seamus and Dean hooting from the back of the class, and she was suddenly grateful that Professor McGonagall had been first to leave.

"Ah, uh…yeah, you're right," she stammered, face, ears and neck hot from embarrassment. "Anyway," she cleared her throat, "I need to get going to the library. I'll see you later."

"Okay," he said, reaching out to brush back a strand of loose hair from her face. Her cheeks got redder; she was not used to this series of sudden displays of affection and a part of her still felt like she had to hide from the world. It was strange and, openly showing her love for someone like this in an environment that would normally scorn such actions between two polar opposites and supposed enemies, terrifying.

She tried to push past the slight discomfort and smiled up at Draco one more time before whirling away and rushing off to the library, trying to ignore the way her heart pounded in her chest and how her body became overwhelmed with the urge to jump into his arms and snog him silly.

It was only once she wove her way around the bookshelves, collecting a few tomes on her way, and had finally sat down at her little hidden alcove in the back of the library, did her mind turn back to the day's events.

Stacking the books around her, hoping to block her face, she felt all inkling of passion fade as she thought, once more, of the writing on her desk.

Lowering her head into her arms, she felt her throat swell up and suddenly burst open as the dams broke in her eyes.

In the dark, back corner of the library, away from the warmth of light and friendship, back in a world she felt she belonged to, Hermione Granger cried in silent, the pains of the past, the accumulate self-hate in her heart, and fear of the truth streaming down from her eyes in cold streaks.

* * *

_Friday..._

"Where is she?"

"Who?"

"Who else? That snotty little bitch who thinks she owns Draco."

Daphne sighed heavily, poking at her peas with her fork, feeling rather sick to her stomach at the moment. The past week had not gone by pleasantly; she felt awful for everything that they had done to Granger, from the shrinking of the clothes to the exploding potions. The worst, she admitted, was the poor girl's desk. The things Pansy had written on it every day had been heartbreaking and she had felt her stomach drop to her feet when she saw Granger's expression at the sight of the desk.

"Probably hiding," Astoria answered with a sneer, glaring over at the Gryffindor table. "She's probably afraid her clothes are going to shrink again. You'd think the slag would want to walk around like that, the slutty clothes suit her personality."

Pansy grinned in response while Daphne continued to stare at her peas; the food before her that used to look delicious seemed rather unappetizing now. Leaning down, she dropped her fork and rubbed her face, trying to find a way to push the guilt away.

"What's the matter Daph?"

Glancing over to Maryse, noting that Pansy and Astoria were both watching her, she let out a silent sigh. "Just a small headache," she answered. "I didn't get enough sleep last night." Which was the truth; she had spent a good majority of the night tossing and turning, worrying the night away as she thought of Pansy's plans for the day. She knew that tonight would be the same thing.

"So," Astoria said, leaning forward with excitement, "how did she react to the writing this time?"

Pansy let out a sharp cackle, a sound that reminded Daphne of Bellatrix when she was excited about something. "It was wonderful," the eldest of the group said gleefully. "The dirty Mudblood looked like she was about to cry! It was definitely the best thing I have ever seen! It's my favourite part of the day."

Astoria laughed; the sound high and cruel but barely audible in the loud chatter of the Great Hall. "How wonderful; I wish I could have seen it."

"I wonder if Draco saw it," Daphne said softly, looking over at Pansy to see the girl's reaction. It wasn't that she wanted the girl to worry about Draco, she wanted to see her reaction when she remember the kiss the couple had shared in the classroom. She hoped that, since Draco had initiated the kiss, it would be taken as a sign that Hermione was definitely not using some kind of spell or potion on him.

Pansy's face darkened suddenly, eyes hardening as her thoughts moved to those in Daphne's mind. "Bleedin' bitch, she had him snog her in the middle of the corridor today, right in front of me. I know he wouldn't dare ever do that on his own; she _made_ him do it."

'_Pansy, my dear friend, you have no idea just how delusional you are,_' Daphne thought, chewing her bottom lip as she listened to the girl's repetitive tirade. She was getting tired of hearing Pansy insult Granger, really fed up of listening to the girl spout nonsense about how Granger had cast all of these supposed love spells on him to make him her own. Daphne had never experienced love in her life, but even she could tell that the looks exchanged by the couple were full of love.

Getting up, sick and tired of hearing the nonsensical cruelty, Daphne shoved her plate aside and gathered her things.

"Where are you going?" Pansy demanded more than asked.

"I'm going to lie down for a bit; my head really hurts," Daphne lied, hurrying off as she spied a certain dark-haired Slytherin Prefect leaving the Great Hall. She needed to get to him, needed to warn him, to get him to tell Draco to keep Hermione close and safe.

Rushing out of the Great Hall, she caught sight of tail of cloak as he rounded corner and hurried after him, feet slapping loudly against the stone floor. Whipping around the corner, she was surprised to find Blaise standing with his arms crossed, facing her as though he had expected her.

"What…?"

"I saw you follow me in the Great Hall," he answered, leaning against the wall. "I'm assuming you wanted to talk to me about something?"

Looking around, noticing that some students were slowly begin to file out of the Great Hall, she nodded quickly and grabbed Blaise's arm. "Yes, but not here. We'll go to the nearest classroom."

"And why is that?" he asked as they made their way down the hallway.

"Because, I will most likely be tortured or killed for what I'm about to tell you."

When he turned back around as they rounded a corner, he had an amused look on his face that quickly fell at the sight of the raw fear in her eyes.

"What's got you so scared, Daphne?"

"I…it's really important that I say this."

"Daaaphneee!"

She came to a stop, face falling as she heard Astoria calling her. Rubbing her face, she suddenly became torn between finding an appropriate hiding spot yet risking being seen or not saying a thing and saving her hide.

"Daphne?" Blaise said, voice softer, understanding the expression on her face. It was one Draco and several other spies had worn often when it seemed like they were about to be caught and tortured. He knew that Daphne knew something, knew that she was hiding from something and someone, and somehow, his instincts broke through.

Pulling her close, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, "What you have to tell me, is it a matter of life or death?"

She nodded, suddenly uncomfortable in the close proximity of their bodies.

"Are you afraid of Astoria finding you?"

Another nod.

"Alright," he murmured as the younger woman's footsteps neared, "follow my lead."

Just as Astoria rounded the corner, Blaise crushed his mouth down on Daphne's in a passionless kiss, one that looked like it was all tongue and lust, yet felt necessary and procedural. Daphne was glad that her mind worked quickly, that she was able to understand things fast enough that her body could follow through in enough time. Swiftly, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he shifted their bodies, pressing her back against a wall to make their snogging session seem more passionate and like it was on the verge of a good shagging session.

She dimly heard Astoria say a quiet "oh my, you naughty girl, headache my arse," before hearing the sound of her footsteps as she turned around and moved away, back towards the Great Hall. They waited another couple of minutes, just to make sure that things were good, and when they broke apart, Blaise quickly pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Sorry about that," he said. "It was the only thing I figured we could get away with doing. How about we move to somewhere more private?"

She nodded, also wiping at her lips. While Blaise was an attractive man, her heart currently lay with a Wizard a year older than her who lived in Paris. Kissing someone other than him felt alien and uncomfortable, and she assumed Blaise felt the same way, if the look in his eyes said anything.

Quickly, they found an empty classroom, shutting and locking the door, casting several silencing and privacy charms on the room to ensure maximum safety. Turning around from the door, pleased with her workmanship, she was surprised to see that Blaise had pulled up a couple of chairs and Transfigured them to be more comfortable. Sitting down, he gestured to the one in front of her and she quickly took a seat.

"Please tell me why I had to just kiss you to make Astoria go away? And it had better be a good, valid reason, because my girlfriend may not seem like the jealous type, but she certainly is."

Girlfriend? Since when did Blaise have a girlfriend? Daphne shook away the thought and focused back on the situation; she could pry a bit later on about Blaise's sudden lady love. "I'm…well, afraid," she began lamely, not sure where to start.

"I understood that," he said, shifting into a more comfortable position. "Can you tell me why?"

"I…I need to warn her." Her words were just coming out; fear made her mind incoherent and her words spew out in random order. Twisting her fingers, she paused and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself enough to speak in understandable sentences. "I, well, I needed to warn someone who is close to Granger. She's in danger."

"Danger?" Blaise's eyes lit up with curiosity and concern. "From who and what?"

"I…I don't know." It's not that she didn't know, but she knew that if Draco suddenly showed up in front of Pansy, railing on her to stay away from Granger, Astoria would tell Pansy that she saw Daphne and Blaise together, they would add two and two together, and it would equal absolute hell for Daphne. She wanted, desperately, to tell Blaise who was behind this, but she couldn't risk it.

"Look," she continued at his look, "I…I can't say who it is just yet. I'm afraid they'll find out and next thing you know, you'll find my body washing ashore from the lake. I…I can't risk it. And, I don't know enough yet, all I really know is that they're the ones behind Granger's bullying right now. At first, I thought it was just nothing, that they were just saying things but wouldn't do anything about it, but now I see that they meant everything."

"The bullying…you mean the shrinking clothes and exploding stuff?" Blaise asked, leaning back on his chair.

"Yes and…"

"For now, Hermione doesn't really want our help," he said suddenly, anger making his eyes glow darkly. "She said that she can handle it, that she can't let it affect her."

Shaking her head and fighting back a smile, she realized that she should have expected nothing less from the only woman in the Golden Trio and current lover of Draco Malfoy. "She's being silly and she's in way over her head," Daphne warned. "Did you see her in Transfiguration today?"

"Yes, she seemed pretty normal." He tilted his head, wondering where this portion of the conversation was going.

"Are you sure? Did you get a really good look at her? Because I can assure you that she was not doing fine." Daphne still felt terrible; she had been the watcher, relaying to Pansy every little thing Granger did during the class that might be a telltale sign of her being upset over the writing on the desk.

"Well," Blaise admitted quietly, thinking back over the class. He hadn't spent much time watching the brown-haired Gryffindor; the most interaction he had had with her was at the end of the class. "She seemed a bit…distracted at the end of class. But I assumed that it was because she was thinking about her essay for Muggle Studies."

"I have a friend in that class and they don't have any essay due."

Blaise arched a brow at her. What did this mean? Had she been lying to Draco about her reason behind going to the library? Then what was she doing then? Where had she gone? He knew that Draco was not going to like this one bit.

"So…what are you trying to tell me?" he asked, needing to know more before jumping to any conclusions.

"That desk…it was covered in insults and profanities, the person bullying her put a Non-Erasable Writing Charm on it, making to last the whole class, and I'm pretty sure she put some really, really cruel stuff on the desk." Daphne breathed heavily, rubbing her face. "I just…I feel horrible, because it looked like Granger was going to cry, and it's just not right. She hasn't done anything wrong, and I…I needed to tell someone who was friends with Draco so they could warn him."

"But why not tell Draco directly? Why come to me?"

"You were the first person I saw when I made up my mind, and it'll look really suspicious if anyone from the group saw me talking to him and suddenly he's trying to protect her. They would definitely figure out it was me and, well, they'd probably do things that would make me wish Bellatrix was the one angry at me," she admitted softly, fear making her voice tremble.

"And what do you expect Draco to do?" Blaise stood up now and began pacing, realizing more and more the reality of the situation.

"I think that he should be as close to her as possible, protect her or at least help her through the bullying. They're both brilliant, the smartest in our school, and I think that if they work together, they can figure out who did it before me." Daphne sighed heavily and lifted her head to look at him, desperation and pleas filling her eyes with tears. "Please…he needs to help her, to at least support her as much as he can, because, from what I can gather, it's only going to get worse unless someone stops it."

"How much worse?" he asked, stopping his pacing.

"I…I've heard rumours…that the leader has Veritaserum and that they have also been practicing certain dark spells."

"What kind of spells?" He needed to know; he knew that the Veritaserum didn't pose much of a threat, since neither Hermione nor Draco were hiding anything about their relationship. But the spells, he needed to know; those could cause serious damage.

"They've been studying spells from _Vox Mors_."

His eyes hardened at the mention of the book and the situation took on a new turn of seriousness and danger. He knew that book, knew what it meant and what it held; he remembered the way Bellatrix used to prance around the Malfoy Manor, caressing the dark, leather-bound tome, teaching the spells to the young, stronger recruits, practicing them on any enemies or those who refused to obey.

Letting out a sharp expletive, he ran a hand through his hair as he stopped his pacing. "Fuck," he muttered again. "They're really serious, aren't they?"

"Very," she nodded. "That's why I had to tell somebody; I can't let them keep getting away with this and she doesn't deserve this. So please, please tell Draco to help her, to keep an eye out on her. I'm…I'm going to try to help in any way I can, but…please understand, this feels about as dangerous as spying on Death Eaters."

He shook his head in agreement. "I know." He knew very well; they _were_, without a doubt, spying on students who had once trained to be Death Eaters, and, depending on their trainer, they could be very dangerous. The mere mention of _Vox Mors _was more than enough to let him know that they were trained by some of the best – well, worst – and that they had enough magical talent to be able to use the spells in the book. "It's exactly like spying on Death Eaters," he continued.

He returned to his pacing for a minute, wondering just what he could do in such a situation. Hermione wasn't exactly his best friend, but they had become quite close over the holidays and it was only in the past month or two that he had begun seeing her as a friend. Luna and Draco loved her deeply; Luna thought of her as a sister, while Draco…hell, Draco was head over heels for her. Just those thoughts alone made him want to protect her, but knowing her, understanding who she was as a person made him want to help her even more.

She, of all people, didn't deserve this; she had dealt with enough in the past few days and she didn't need this making her life even harder. Like she hadn't suffered enough already in life.

It was even worse with Draco involved; Blaise's best friend had been force to sit back and watch as so many friends and family members were tortured in the span of four years, it was enough to last a lifetime. Blaise feared that Draco just might snap if anything worse happened to Hermione, and he didn't know if anyone would be able to restrain the blond.

"Shit…why is everything always so fucked up?" he muttered, massaging the back of his neck to remove a small crick. "I'll talk to Draco; let him know everything you just told me. I won't let him know the source of my information," he added, knowing the importance of autonomy in a situation like this. "I'll let him know and we'll deal with it. If you come by anymore information, and you feel safe enough to pass it along, send me a coded letter through the Owl mail and we can set a time to meet at the Room of Requirement."

"Okay," she said, breathing a soft sigh of relief. Finally, something was going to be done about this. She knew that it should have bothered her immensely, this act of betrayal, but she didn't trust her friends anymore save for Maryse, who she knew was slowly getting on the same page as her. Daphne needed to pull away, to stop her 'friends' from doing something horrendously regrettable.

"I'm sorry about kissing you before," Blaise added suddenly, as though it was a last minute thought. "I figured that it would be the best way to avoid suspicion, since nobody knows about my relationship with my girlfriend."

"Is she a student here?"

"Yes, and the rumour mill is going to be running full speed tomorrow," he sighed. "I'll have to explain this to her before anything, just in case."

"I…I can help, too," Daphne offered, feeling guilty over the prospect that she might be behind the breaking of Blaise's relationship. "I can explain to her."

He gave her a small smile and they slowly moved towards the door. "No, it's okay. She's very understanding, so we won't have to worry. And she's also not one to stir up trouble." At least not intentionally. "So you don't have to worry." He paused at the door and waited for her to get up and they withdrew their wands to begin the process of removing the charms from the room. "I suggest that it be just you and I when we meet; we can keep up the appearance that we're a couple of students sneaking off for a good snogging or shagging session. That way we won't look so suspicious."

She agreed and they quickly removed the spells, exiting the room and going their separate ways with a small nod. Blaise ran a hand through his hair as he trudged up the steps towards the Great Hall; he was going to have a lot of talking to do.

* * *

The past week had gone by horribly slow. Every day felt like a nightmare coming to life, each step felt heavier and harder to take, and every class she stepped into made her chest tight with worry over just what might happen next.

The only moments of reprieve she had was when she hid herself away in the library at the end of the day and when she slept in his arms at night. Something told her that if she didn't have him to go back to every night, she would have spent every hour in the library.

Books were piled around her again today, blocking her face, and a Silencing bubble had been put around her, letting her hear outside of it yet muffling her sounds. Rubbing her eyes, she lifted her fingers higher to massage her aching temples. She was getting tired of crying every day, getting fed up the headaches that always managed to sneak up on her, and, most importantly, she was sick and tired of the torture. Exploding objects, shrinking clothes, and, worst of all, the writing on the desk. It happened daily and never once stopped. She stopped eating in the Great Hall, getting up before him in the mornings and feigning homework to hide in the library.

She knew that she couldn't hide there forever; it was only a temporary relief from the world around her, a way to hide from reality and pretend that things weren't as bad as they were.

Yet, as she sat in her transfigured chair, after she sobbed to her heart's content, she pulled out the piles of parchment and wrote note after endless note on the spells used, their power, and a list of potential candidates. She knew every spell used and had collected a variety of counter-spells. The hardest one to fight was the writing charm, but she would eventually find one. She didn't have much time each day, only a couple of hours of research, so it was a given that she was rather behind.

Looking down at the papers strewn about on the desk, she picked up the list of candidates. She knew, deep down, that it had to be a Slytherin. The Gryffindors had all voiced their concerns if they had had any, the Hufflepuffs couldn't be bothered by trivial matters and had been the ones to accept Draco's allegiance the fastest, and the Ravenclaws would only go after her if it managed to affect her studies. The bullying did get on her nerves, but it hardly affected her ability to study.

So, therefore, it had to be a Slytherin. Only a Slytherin would be so cunning, only a Slytherin would be so cruel, and the only other House that shared classes with her, aside from specialty classes, was Slytherin. She therefore had no doubt in her mind that it was a Slytherin.

The question now was _who_? Anyone in the third year and below was removed, they wouldn't have been experienced enough, and she had a strong feeling that most of the Slytherin students from the 5th year and below didn't harbor the same hatred towards her as those who had been most influenced by the Death Eaters.

She had first assumed that it was Pansy Parkinson, mainly because of Parkinson's not so secretive hatred of Hermione, but she thought that this just wasn't Parkinson's style. While the girl could hold her own in a duel, she was the type to brag about her accomplishments, and so far, no rumour had been heard detailing Pansy as the bully.

Yet, in spite of that, her mind kept going back to Pansy as a potential candidate, and due to their history together; she kept the snotty little bitch on her list. Just in case.

Besides, whenever she looked at Pansy's name, a strange sensation slid down her spine, a weird shivering that somehow told her that Pansy knew at least something about what was going on.

Massaging just under her eyes, she squeezed them shut for a moment to take in a deep breath before poring over the list once more.

This was getting exhausting; she was busy enough with her studies, especially given that it was the end of the year and she had her NEWTs to start concentrating on, as well as the Graduation Ball held for the 7th years. That was enough stress, but added on was her relationship with Draco, worrying about Ron's progress at St. Mungo's, worry on how Harry and Ginny were doing, and now she had to focus on trying to stop this damn bullying before it got out of control.

It was enough to make someone lose their mind.

Taking a shaking breath, she looked down over her papers, wishing that she could just magically pull the name of the assailant out of thin air and stop everything. It wasn't going to happen like that; stuff never happened like that. But she could always hope.

"Fuck," she muttered, cupping her face in her hands as hopelessness washed over her.

It was too much, too much stress, too much pain, it was just way too much and she would burn out soon enough. She barely slept, hardly ate, and only did her homework and investigative work. She didn't have much time for anything else.

A few tears squeezed out of her eyes as she sniffled loudly. She was fed up.

* * *

He was just leaving the Tower, ready to get started on his rounds for the night, when a certain dark-haired Slytherin literally walked right into him.

Giving Blaise a light punch on the shoulder, Draco glared at his friend. "Watch where you're going," he sighed.

"Oh bugger off," Blaise answered before grabbing Draco's arm and pulling him back towards the statue of Aphrodite. "We need to talk."

"Now? I had rounds to start soon, not that I really want to do them," the blond said, trying to tug his arm out of Blaise's grasp.

"Yes, we need to talk _now_, not later." He pulled Draco once more and the blond caught sight of the hardened look in his friend's eyes. It was a look he had never wanted to see ever again, one that told him a friend had been tortured, a school mate captured, and a family member murdered. It was their sign to each other, whenever it seemed like they were getting too close to being caught, a simple look that said thousands of words in less than a second. _Hurry. Listen. Be Calm. Don't get angry. Don't do anything rash. Don't cry…_

"Fine," he muttered, allowing Blaise to pull him back into the Tower. Once the door was shut, he arched a brow as his friend cast a quick Silencing spell on the room. "This had better not be some kind of love confession, because I'm honestly not interested."

"Don't keep your hopes up," Blaise answered smartly. "This is much more important; it's about Hermione."

Those words managed to get Draco torn between asking more and shutting his mouth to be able to hear what Blaise had to say. Draco, of course, had never been a person with the ability to keep his mouth shut for too long when curiosity got a hold on him.

"What is it about Hermione? Is she okay? Did something say or do something to her? Is it about the bastard bullying her? You're not in love with her are you?"

At the last question, Blaise let out a loud sound of frustration, rolling his eyes as he turned to his friend. "You're an idiot, you know that, right?"

Draco merely waved it off, knowing he could just go complain to Hermione later and get his self-esteem back up several notches. She had always been brutally honest with him when it came to compliments and he knew that she would never sugar-coat things or bullshit him.

"Then just fucking tell me," he breathed, moving to sit down on his favourite armchair.

"A certain little birdie came to me today with some fascinating information," Blaise began before recounting his whole discussion with Daphne. By the end of it, Draco's hands were clenched tightly and his face was drawn tight.

"Bloody fucking bitch," he snapped, "she never told me anything about that. Never once. I sat right beside her. Beside her!"

"I know how you must be feeling Draco," Blaise began before the blond cut him off with an expletive.

"Yeah right. That's a load of bullshit and you know it."

Blaise sent Draco a sharp glare, effectively shutting him up. "Don't you say I don't know how you feel; do you know how often Luna was teased and bullied? Do you know how often she'd try to hide the tears when we met up after a hard day? Thank Circe that she finally befriended Potter and his little gang because I don't think she would've wanted to stay here for another year."

Draco wanted to ask just how long Blaise and Luna had been going out, given that he knew Luna really befriended the gang during their fifth year, but he needed to hear what was coming next.

"What you need to do right now is find Hermione, talk to her, and support her. I'm sure you've been trying, but she's been hiding everything from you. I know she said that she wanted to act like nothing bothered her, that she wanted to be mature about things, but I know from experience that she can't keep doing that to herself. It's not healthy."

"I know that," Draco breathed, leaning down to rub his face in his hands as the stress he'd been hiding all week managed to creep out. "You think I haven't been worrying too? She's been too happy when she's with me, trying too hard and her smile never really reaches her eyes. She tosses and turns in her sleep, I haven't seen her eat all week, and all she does is hide in that fucking library. If she thinks she's doing me a service, she's doing one hell of a bad job at it."

"Why don't you get off your arse and tell her then?" Blaise gestured towards the door, more than willing to go with Draco to see Hermione. Luna was already waiting in the library for them; he knew that they would need Luna with this, as she was the only one out of the group to have gone through such experiences. She would be vital in getting Hermione to open up and accept their help.

Draco muttered something before getting to his feet. "Honestly, that woman…" He suddenly looked up to Blaise. "Who told you all of this information?"

"I'm not supposed to say."

"Did you ever think that it might lead us to something?" Draco moved towards the door as Blaise removed the silencing spells. They kept the conversation light, if they didn't say names or make it obvious just what they were discussing, they could get away with it.

"There's a chance," he answered thoughtfully as they exited the Tower and began heading towards the library. He glanced over to Draco and saw the restrained anger in every tense line in the man's body. He knew that it took all of his friend's willpower not to explode, to rush off to the library and scream and plead with Hermione to accept his help. He felt cast aside, pushed away, as though the person he loved most felt that he was useless to her.

Blaise knew the feelings all too well, understood the pain, the despair, the guilt, and the anger. A myriad of achingly painful emotions that simmered just below the surface, threatening to tear through one's flesh at any moment with a heart wrenching scream.

He also knew that Draco only pretended to be so secure about himself; the man was one of the most insecure people in all of Hogwarts, he just didn't show it. The swagger, the sway, the charisma, yes, he possessed all of it, and he had achievements that other students could only dream to boast about, but beyond those, there was still the lonely child within him, neglected and denied warmth.

He needed Hermione to see that, needed her to fully understand just how Draco's brain functioned. For now, however, they needed to focus on getting her to accept their help.

"I supposed it might help us with our research, having one extra source might lead us to others," Blaise said, trying to keep the conversation sounding more educational as they passed a group of Hufflepuffs hurrying to their dormitories.

"Of course it would. You can never have too many sources for any kind of research essay." Draco sent a glare at a couple of Ravenclaw girls who began whispering avidly the second they passed by. "What was the name of that bird we learnt about in Ancient Runes today? I don't remember."

Blaise's eyes lit up at he took the hint; there were only ten students in the school who took Ancient Runes, and Blaise and Draco were the only Slytherins to be in the class.

"I don't really remember. But, I wanted to ask you about a few of these letters; I just don't remember which ones they represent again." Blaise rubbed the back of his neck, feigning sheepishness. " I believe they were _Thorn, Asch, Perch, Hagale, Not, _and _Eho." _Blaise looked over to Draco now, waiting for the blond to spell out the word in his head. He knew what each letter represented, spelling out D-A-P-H-N-E. He just hoped Draco got it fast enough.

Realization was quick to dawn on Draco's face and he arched a brow at his friend before giving him a quick smile. "Well, I'm not fully sure, but I suppose we could always check out notes later," he suggested. "I suppose you don't remember that story, do you? The one we learnt in History of Magic."

"I'm not fully sure; I think you might have to refresh me."

"Insert some kind of myth here." Draco rolled his shoulders at they neared the library. "Well, I was thinking we could look at that myth; I thought it was a nice portrayal of how good friends always confide in each other, no matter what."

Blaise grinned at Draco. "I see what you mean, it could make an interesting little essay topic, looking at friendship and secrets in other myths."

Draco paused suddenly, near the library doors. "I was thinking," he said, putting his hand to his chin, feigning deep thought. "Going back to the subject of Ancient Runes, I'm having trouble with a few ones too. Mainly _Perch, Asch, Not, Suhill,_ and _Hyuri_."

"Ah," Blaise said softly as they reached the doors, smiling as Luna moved away from a wall to join them. "I see what you mean. I guess _Perch, Asch, and Not _are the more annoying ones to remember, eh?" He let out a little chuckle, as though they finally realized which aspects of class were more complicated than others.

They made their way into the library, pleased to know that the main one they would look for had to be little miss Pansy; she was the main confidant of Daphne's, the only one who trusted Daphne enough to spill her deepest, darkest secrets. They also knew that Daphne spent an incredibly amount of time with Pansy and the two girls were the best of friends.

At least they were.

Moving through the library, Draco followed Luna, who said that she knew of Hermione's little hiding space at the back of the room. She was more than a hundred percent positive that Hermione would be hiding by the little desk in the alcove, trying to escape from the outside world.

When they got there, Draco's heart fell to his knees. There were papers strewn about, littering the desk top and the floor, books spread across the desk, and the chair had been kicked over, as if some weight had been placed in it and then leaned back too far. What made Draco's heart ache was Hermione's bag lying under the desk, tucked to the back right corner where she liked to put her bag at any table or desk.

"What in the hell happened here?"

This was not good…

* * *

** So there we go, Chapter 20 is complete! Yay!**

**So, in the name of Halloween, I'm going to toss in a cute little Halloween recipe I found. I found this actually through in their lifestyle – cooking section. This one sounded good and like something everyone could do. I plan on trying to make it tomorrow. **

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Sorry it took a bit; midterms these past weeks have been brutal. I'm getting sick AGAIN, it hasn't even been a month since I was last sick. So not cool.**

**So yeah, that's it. Please don't forget to review, and constructive criticism is always more than welcome! I may not go back and fix it right away, but I have a list of corrections to do in MCMM and Kiss Me Freely that I plan on acting on as soon as I have more free time!**

**Thanks for reading guys!**

**RECIPE!**

**Pumpkin Shaped Chocolate Cake**

**Ingredients**

2 package(s) (18.25-oz.) chocolate cake mix, plus additional ingredients as directed on package

1 1/4 cup(s) confectioners' sugar

1 tablespoon(s) (light) corn syrup

4 teaspoon(s) milk

red and yellow food coloring , or orange, if available, optional

1/3 cup(s) chocolate frosting

1 wafer ice cream cone

1 small tube green decorating icing , optional

edible leaf or petal sugar decorations, for garnish, optional

Directions

Mist two standard 12-cup Bundt cake pans with nonstick cooking spray. Prepare cake mixes as package label directs for 2 Bundt cakes. Bake as directed. Cool in pans for 10 minutes, then invert cakes onto wire racks to cool completely. You can also prepare cakes one at a time using the same pan.

Meanwhile, prepare glaze: In a small bowl, stir confectioners' sugar, corn syrup and 4 tsp. milk together with a fork until smooth. Blend in remaining 1 tsp. milk, if necessary, for desired consistency. If you like, use food coloring to tint glaze orange, or just leave glaze white.

Trim the flat side of each cake with a serrated knife so it's even. Place one cake, rounded side down, on a serving plate. Spread chocolate frosting on top (not a thick layer, just enough to hold the two cakes together). Position second cake on top of the first, flat side down.

Stir glaze again and drizzle over cake. Invert ice cream cone into hole in top of cake to make the pumpkin's stem. If you like, use green icing to decorate the cone and arrange edible leaf decorations around it.

**Enjoy! Sorry it's a day late; I was busy these past few days. **


	21. Will to Survive

**Chapter 21  
**

**Will to Survive  
**

_"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you"  
_ - Friedrich Nietsche

_"You can lay down and die, or you can get up and fight, but that's it - there's no turning back."_ - Jon English

The air was cold, very cold. And damp, a thick, musty dampness that grew over many years of no care or cleanliness. It brought back a distant and painful memory that one tried so hard to push to the back of their minds; a memory of capture and torture, of pain and despair, a memory of the acceptance of death.

Her body felt heavy; her hands felt swollen and legs leaden as she tried to squirm in her uncomfortable position. It was only as the numbness began to fade in sharp, electric tingles throughout her body did she feel the thick leather wrapped tightly around her wrists. With a groan, her head lolled back as she unconsciously berated Draco for his failed attempt as spicing up their sex life.

It was only when the thought crossed her mind did the fog finally push away and she realized that this was not, indeed, an attempt to ignite more passion between her and Draco. There was something very, very wrong with this situation. It was too cold, too quiet, and too damp. It could only mean that she was somewhere under the castle, within an unused dungeon.

Squeezing her eyes, she tilted her head back, stretching it as she tried her hardest to recall how and why she suddenly found herself tied up in the dungeons. She'd been in the library, in her silenced bubble like usual, poring over her notes about her potential bullies.

Ah. Now she remembered.

And it pissed her off.

She'd been so distraught after class that she had accidentally overdone the bubble; she had realized that only moments before losing consciousness and it meant that she couldn't hear anyone outside of it just as they couldn't hear her.

Damn. Of all the times to screw up a spell…

A couple of people had snuck up behind her and, before she had realized they were there, she'd been bound in the Body-Binding Curse. The fall had been hard, but it had given her the chance to see her assailants before they Stunned her.

"Fucking Parkinson," she mumbled, twisting her hands in the restraints.

"That's my name."

Her eyes flung open and she looked over to the side of the room, sight quickly adjusting to the shadowy darkness of the old potions classroom. Broken chairs, dusty tables, and burnt cauldrons littered the room, making her think of an abandoned asylum of sorts, a place that would be haunted by creatures of the past.

For now, however, it had occupants that were very much alive.

Pansy sat on a comfortable armchair, something Hermione assumed she had transfigured, while another girl sat nearby on the same style of chair. It took Hermione a moment to realize who the second person was and when she did, she finally understood why she had underestimated Pansy. Astoria Greengrass was, after all, one of the best Sixth Years in the school and had been equally as passionate as Pansy about becoming the next Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Heh," she let out, trying to roll her shoulders to remove the knots. "I wouldn't have guessed."

"Of course you wouldn't have," Pansy cackled. "It couldn't possibly be Pansy, right? Oh no, you didn't think I was good enough, you didn't think I was strong enough, but I showed you. I'm much, _much_ better at magic than you ever thought."

The similarity between the actions of this young woman and a much older one made Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, Parkinson, you sure have Bellatrix's voice right; you sound just as mental as she did."

Pansy let out a sound of shock as Astoria jerked in response. "M…Mental? She was _not_ mental; she was brilliant! One of the best in the whole world. How _dare_ you call her mental!"

"Pansy," Astoria said calmly, reaching out to touch the older girl's leg. Instantly, Pansy calmed down and Hermione narrowed her eyes at the sight. It was slowly becoming more obvious who was the real leader here, and Pansy sure as hell wasn't it.

"Ah yes, well, where was I?" The way Pansy shook off the momentary insanity had Hermione confused; was the girl in the right state of mind or just plain crazy? It was difficult to determine, given that Pansy had always been prone to outbursts and had been very passionate about her one-sided relationship with Draco. "Oh, yes, I was going to get the truth from you."

At the moment, any normal witch would have been terrified of their situation, but Hermione was more annoyed. She knew that her wand as nearby and if she managed to delay Pansy enough, she could gather enough strength and try to summon it using wandless magic. She'd been practicing for some time and had gotten the hang of it halfway through the war.

"Wouldn't you think" she began, keeping her voice bored, "that it might be much more hospitable if you told me why I was here before we started this pleasant little conversation?"

She would have expected her captor to have spluttered loudly at the sound of her voice, but Pansy instead stood up and sauntered over to Hermione. Astoria followed close behind, her movements like a slowly, unfurling ribbon as she glided silently behind the older girl.

Reaching down, Pansy grasped Hermione's chin and forced her head up to focus on the girl's face. Trying to make herself appear bored, she attempted to scrutinize Pansy's expressions and words; the subtle differences in text could help differentiate between insanity and awareness.

"You are here, my sweet little Mudblood, because I know that you forced Draco to drink a potion that made him fall in love with you." Her voice was calm, sickeningly sweet, and her nails dug gently into Hermione's flesh. "I know that you've always wanted him, you've always been jealous because he's mine, and really, I don't think it's right that you had to put some spell on him, so I'm going to punish you."

She was torn between laughter and concern; Pansy was and had always been this fanatical about Draco, so it was definitely nothing new in the world. The girl was obviously in the right state of mind, with a little bit of Bellatrix added here or there to influence her, and this made things worrisome yet less complicated. It was much easier to reason with someone of sane mind, yet it was harder to convince a fanatic that they're just imagining things. In spite of their sanity, it was something they fervently clung to and believed it and it was difficult to pry someone away from something they held dear and near to their hearts.

But, she could always play a bit with Pansy's mind to bide some time; that way, she'd have enough strength and she'd be able to fight back. While Pansy had been underestimated, she was quite certain that she was more than strong enough to take on the two women. She had, after all, been ambushed and attacked from behind, taken down before she had a chance to fight. It was the coward's way of winning a battle.

But the powerful, intelligent and courageous fighter usually won the war.

"Pansy, love," she drawled, "would you be a dear and show me the proof that have, so-called, put a curse on Draco? Because, to be honest, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes you do," Pansy snapped, withdrawing her wand to point it in Hermione's direction. "You know exactly what I'm talking about; there's no way in hell that Drakie would _ever_ kiss a dirty Mudblood slag like you. You put a spell on him, I'm sure of it, you…you…you witch!"

Keeping her eyes on the wand, Hermione slide a smile onto her face and she tilted her head to make it appear as though she was staring at Pansy. "I would like to take this moment to point out that you're a witch, too, and that I never put a spell on my dear, sweet Drakie."

So, this is what it was going to come down to. All of that bullying, all of the harassment and cruel words; they were all written to her because of an idiot Slytherin's love for Draco Malfoy. It irritated her beyond reason; why the hell couldn't Pansy have just accepted it and moved on? But of course, this _was_ Pansy they were talking about, and it looked like Astoria had been fueling the older girl's desire for revenge. She could only wonder why Astoria decided to play the puppeteer and just what she had done to earn the younger girl's wrath.

Pansy let out a loud expletive and would have thrown herself on Hermione if it weren't for the sudden, restraining hand Astoria used on the girl's shoulder. "Pansy, we have a plan, remember? Calm down and follow the plan."

It took a few moments for the girl to calm down, long enough for Hermione to take her eyes off of the women and survey the room. She needed to find some kind of usable weapon nearby, in case she couldn't grab her wand or lost it. She also needed proper cover; she wasn't in the mood to get hurt. It didn't seem so bad; an overturned table a few feet to her left, and the broken chairs littering the floor would be able to donate their legs as blunt weapons. It was better than nothing, although she really preferred to get her wand.

Did she panic? Did she worry? Did she fear for her life?

She couldn't afford to panic; panic in situations like this had been quickly pushed out of her during the war, when many of her friends had been taken captive, including herself. She knew that panic quickly ended with tortured or death; if one panicked, they would not be able to sanely find a way out and by the time they did calm down, it was always too late.

Worry? Of course she worried; she worried about her friends, she worried about being able to get out in time, and she definitely worried about Draco. He would be livid and ready to kill when he found out about this, that was for sure.

Of course, given Pansy's history as a wand-user, she didn't really need to fear for her life; Pansy was mediocre at best and while Astoria was powerful, a well aimed Stunner could knock that girl out quickly leaving Pansy alone to fight Hermione. She was one hundred percent certain that she would definitely be able to take on that bitch, whether it was a magical or physical fight.

But for now, she had to worry about getting out of these damns restraints and getting her wand back.

"Plan? What kind of plan? Would you two mind enlightening me?" she queried once Pansy slipped her wand back into her pocket.

"You'll see in a moment," Astoria answered as the door to the room opened. It was behind Hermione and no matter how much she strained her neck; she was unable to see who had come in. It was two people, from the sounds of the footsteps, and they did not seem as confident as Pansy or Astoria, given the way their feet shuffled and hesitated.

Two unwilling partners…well, this made things interesting and possibly more in Hermione's favour.

"Daphne, do you have it?" Pansy's face lit up with glee, a cat-like grin that was creepier than the room they were in.

Daphne Greengrass…well, that was somewhat expected; she was, after all, Pansy's best friend and right-hand woman. Although, there were things about Daphne that always made Hermione wonder if the girl was truly the same type of person as her best friend.

"Y…Yes," came the voice, followed by a series of footsteps as Daphne came into Hermione's line of sight. She saw Hermione and quickly diverted her gaze, eyes trying to look anywhere but the woman tied up in the middle of the room. Hermione felt like a stain on a shirt, something people tried not to look at but couldn't help but see no matter where they looked.

Glancing over, Hermione watched as Daphne pulled a small vial of translucent liquid out of her pocket. It took a moment for her to realize just what the concoction might be and, while she had nothing to hide, fear instinctively began to well up within her.

"The Veritaserum," Daphne said softly. "It was the only vial I could get from Slughorn's office without him noticing."

"That's fine, you did a wonderful job," Astoria answered. The way they spoke to one another, one might have thought the birth order was reversed; Astoria appeared older, darker, and more sinister, while Daphne played the role of a terrified little sister.

"Go outside with Maryse and keep guard; we don't want any unexpected intruders," Pansy ordered.

In the time it took Hermione to realize that the fourth member of their group was Maryse Felborne, Daphne had already hurried from the room and the door slammed shut. Well, they had quite the gaggle of girls against her, didn't they? She didn't know much about Maryse; had never really spoken to her and she had never really noticed her either. Maryse was…someone in the middle; nothing too exceptional, yet nobody too horrendous worthy of attention. Well, worthy wasn't necessarily the right word, more like warranting unwanted attention. She was a shadow, blending into the crowd.

Perfect for this type of situation.

Expected the unexpected; that's what she had been told before going to war. She hadn't really realized the extent of that phrase until the first major fight with Death Eaters, when the masks came off. Fellow classmates, parents, even a teacher…it was not what she had expected, yet Lupin had told her to expect it.

Now, she was more accustomed, she had become used to these situations and her heart trembled less.

That didn't mean it didn't tremble a little bit. It didn't mean that her flesh didn't shiver with frissons of anxiety. It didn't mean that sweat dripped coolly down from her brow to tickle her lips. It didn't mean she was made of stone.

She knew the moment it was going to happen, she saw the change in their eyes, saw the way their muscles shifted as they moved in unison. Even when she knew it would happen, she could do nothing to stop it; the second she opened her mouth, she knew that the tasteless liquid would creep down her throat and make her say things she didn't want to say.

Astoria gripped her hair, yanking her head back sharply, creating an aching pain in her neck as it cricked loudly. Wincing slightly when Astoria pulled on a particularly tight knot in her tresses, she kept her lips sealed shut as Pansy pressed the open vial to the crease of her mouth.

She really didn't want to do this; even though this was different from a war situation, where she could not cause anyone's death, there were still things she wanted to keep to herself, secrets she had kept, promises she had made.

Pansy let out a sharp breath, sighing loudly as Hermione resisted, not quite struggling in their grip, yet trying to push the vial away with her lips. Pushing harder against the girl's mouth, she tried to force the brunette's lips open.

"Open your mouth, you dirty Mudblood; just like you do when Potty and Weasel want to get off, you fucking slag," she snarled, pressing harder into Hermione's mouth.

Her instinct was to open her mouth and say a retort, but her mind managed to control her body just enough that she kept her lips sealed.

Moving away, Pansy grimaced at the girl restrained in front of her. This, she had not expected. She had expected spells, curses, and an assortment of magical methods of pain, but she had not expected the sudden feeling of a palm smacking viciously across her face.

Her mouth opened as she let out a whoosh of air as pain raced across her cheek and her teeth bit into her lip, breaking the skin. Her head was pulled back once more and Pansy smacked her a second time, bruising her lips and smearing blood on Hermione's cheek and the back of Pansy's hand.

This time, when she was savagely pulled back, Pansy managed to shove the vial between her aching lips. She tried to push the liquid out of her mouth, gagging and choking on it, but she had no choice; while she had secrets, she had none worth dying over, unfortunately.

Coughing, she swallowed the last drops forced into her mouth and let her head hang as Astoria shoved her away, trying to catch her breath and stop the gagging.

"Well, then, little Muddie, I think we'll wait a couple minutes to let the potion take full effect. Now, how will we pass the time?" Pansy asked, glancing over to Astoria.

"Oh, I have a few ideas," the younger girl answered, grinning over Hermione.

She knew what was coming, and she braced herself for it, tensing her body, flexing her muscles to create the least amount of pain possible as every fist, foot and palm hit her body. She remembered Sirius' words at the back of her mind, telling her to push the pain away and focus on something else. She had to compartmentalize.

So, instead of crying out, instead of letting the pain dull her senses and make her weaker, she focused on her wand across the room, willing her power to increase, trying to get the conductor to further augment her strength. She couldn't grow weak, not when she had almost gotten strong enough to summon the wand.

Hissing loudly as Astoria's fist slammed into her ribs, she coughed loudly, blood flowing freely from her mouth from a few more slaps by Pansy. Blinking, she heaved for air, winded and shaking, pushing the pain away as the girls finally relented. It had felt like an eternity, every punch, every slap had felt like it had gone on for forever and pain radiated from her torso and face. Her blouse was stained with her blood, ripped on the sleeve when Pansy tried, and failed, to dislocate her shoulder.

"I think that's enough," Astoria panted, wiping sweat from her brow.

"Break a sweat from a couple of minutes' physical activity?" Hermione asked breathlessly, still trying to be in control of the situation. "How pathetic."

Pansy had to be held back by Astoria once more when she moved to smack the girl once more. "Enough, we're dirtied our hands enough," the younger woman hissed, squeezing her nails into the girl's arms.

Nodding, she slowly relaxed in Astoria's arms and the duo performed a quick Scouring charm on each other, muttering about needing to shower a thousand times to get rid of the filth on their hands.

Standing back, arms crossed, Pansy smiled down at Hermione as she felt a sudden, cooling sensation overwhelm her. She knew this feeling, understood the compulsions, and her heart trembled just a little more in her chest. The Veritaserum was now in effect.

"Now," Pansy said, "let's have some fun."

* * *

The moment she had been forced out of the room, Daphne had turned quickly on Maryse, grabbing her friend's arms.

"We need to do something about this," she whispered, eyes wide and face pale with fear. "We can't let them do this, we _can't_."

"I know, I know," Maryse admitted quietly, pulling Daphne a little ways away from the door. They knew that the crueler twosome had performed Silencing charms on the room, and Daphne had done one on the door from the outside, but they didn't want to take any risks that they would be next in line for torture.

"What do we do? What do we do? What do we do?" Maryse repeated, rubbing her face with her hands, trying to find some way to solve the problem at hand as she paced in front of Daphne. "This is just awful; I was fine with the stalking, I was okay with Pansy's ranting, but honestly, this is not right. It isn't right at all." Spinning around, she gripped her friend's arms. "What can we do?"

"We…we need to tell someone." Daphne lifted Maryse's hands from her arms, holding them tightly in her own. "I…I need to find Blaise. Blaise will know what to do."

Sending her a perplexed look, Maryse squeezed Daphne's hands back. "What do you mean 'find Blaise'? What can he do?"

Daphne lowered her head, sighing loudly. "I…I told him."

"Told him what?"

"Told him…about Pansy and Astoria's plans, I mentioned it to him just after supper, when I left the Great Hall and before Pansy got the bright idea to do the kidnapping today."

Maryse's eyes bugged and her face got tight and considerably paler. "What…what exactly did you tell him? Will he go to the Professors? Did you say anything about me, because you know I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Relax, relax," Daphne hissed, fighting the urge to give her friend a harsh slap back to reality. "I only told him of their plans, but I didn't tell him who was doing it. I think, though, he would have figured it out anyway. I only told him to tell Draco and that they had to keep an eye on Hermione…" Her speech slowed down and she spoke the victim's name syllable by syllable as realization dawned on her. "Oh shit."

"What?"

"What do you think the chances are that after I told him that, he went and told Draco and two headed off to find Hermione in the library?"

"Fuck."

"My thoughts exactly." Daphne pulled away from Maryse, giving her friend a last squeeze. "I've got to go and find them. If Pansy or Astoria come out, tell them I had to go to the loo for lady issues, okay? Just keep watch on the door, do what they told you to do unless you see Draco or Blaise coming. Do you understand? When they come, pretend that they figured it out, pretend they fought their way past you, got it?"

"Yes, yes," Maryse answered with a nod of her head. "Go, and please hurry."

That was all she needed. Daphne ran, she ran through the school as though the very hounds of Hell were after her. Every sharp made her breathing faster, every turn made her heart pound harder, but she pushed on, ignoring a loud cry of outrage from a rather shocked and irritated Filch, jumping over Mrs. Norris. She was glad that she had worked out daily when in Death Eater training, glad that it had increased her stamina.

She kept running until there was a stitch in her side, trying her hardest to find Draco and Blaise in the maze of corridors that was Hogwarts. She desperately needed to find them, to tell them what was going on and get them back in time to save Hermione.

Her body went suddenly flying back as she hit a solid mass, tumbling hard onto the floor as the wall let out a mumbled curse of shock. Wincing, she rubbed her bum as she lifted her head to try and see just who or what she had hit.

Shock was quickly replaced with joy as she realized that the wall, which had also made its way to the floor, was none other than the man she sought, with Blaise and Luna standing to his side.

"Draco!" she squealed, jumping up in happiness. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you."

Before she could let out another word of joy, his hand quickly darted out and coiled around the front of her blouse as he yanked her to him. She whimpered at the dark look in his eyes, the whispered promises of pain and retribution for thing she hadn't done. Dark frissons ran down her spine at his expression and her heart thundered loudly in her chest.

"What the hell did you do to her?" The words were whispered savagely, as untamed and furious as the hand on her shirt. "Where the hell is she?"

Swallowing thickly, she pushed aside her fear long enough to be able to coherently answer his questions. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Blaise and Luna, both torn between pulling Draco away and letting him continue. "I know where she is, and I've come to bring you guys to her."

"Yet you've helped them get her, haven't you? Haven't you?" Draco said, voice rising as he shook her when he repeated himself.

She couldn't fight him; she knew the truth in what she had done and felt the guilt consume her body over her actions. Her intentions had been to just merely placate Pansy, not help the girl kidnap Granger and torture her. She felt awful for everything she had done, and yet some of the guilt faded away the moment she had found Draco. She needed to tell him where Hermione was, if only he would stop yelling at her every two seconds.

It was like a really bad movie. Which Muggle film was this like again? Damn it, she'd seen it a while ago…

That one with that actor who had flipped out during some other movie…What was it?

Oh yes, the Dark Knight.

Putting that aside – really, what was she doing thinking of awful movie lines at a time like this? - she sighed heavily as Draco shook her one more time. Squaring her shoulders, she managed to shake loose his grip and stood firmly in front of him, suddenly fed up the way he shook her every time he repeatedly asked her where Hermione was. The reason that she had gone behind Pansy's back and told Blaise about this was because she was fed up. She was tired of being pushed around and used as a lackey, she was tired of being the person behind the others, and she was certainly sick and tired of hearing people yelling all of the time.

"Look, do you want to know where she is or not? Because you're wasting precious time yelling at me," she snapped, sending him a sharp glare. "She's in the dungeons, follow me," she continued as she turned around, "and hurry. I don't know how much longer Pansy will stay calm."

With that, she began hurrying back in the direction she had come. She knew that he would follow, even though she was certain that he was in shock over her outburst. He may have been stubborn and overly emotional at times, but he loved and cared for Hermione with all of his heart and soul and he wouldn't waste a single second gawking or idling around while she was being tortured.

That was the magic of love; it made people do amazing things, and in Draco's case, it was learning how to stand up for someone other than himself.

* * *

"How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long have you been stalking him?"

The questions shocked her; she had been trained to deal with far more important questions and answers than little personal ones that made no sense. Yet, it was another reminder that this situation was quite different from those she'd encountered during the war. However, the way her face throbbed begged to differ.

Twisting her head, she cracked her neck and tried to stretch out one of the many knots in it. She felt the compulsion to answer the question truthfully, felt the familiar pulling at the bottom of her stomach and the uncomfortable itchiness in her throat. She needed to answer, but she knew that the truth would not please Pansy.

"I never stalked Draco."

She was partially glad that her face was no longer the target of their attacks, given that she figured it was bleeding and swollen enough already, but hot, burning pain sliding up her arm was quite unnecessary. They couldn't possibly torture the truth out of her; she had taken the Veritaserum and that was more than enough to get her to speak the truth. She felt that the torture was more for their own sick enjoyment.

"Try another question," Astoria suggested, standing behind Hermione, slowly twisting and gripping the girl's hair in her hands.

"How long have you loved him?" Pansy's voice grew rather shrilly as she spoke this question, and it was for good reason. The girl had been fanatically in love with Draco for the majority of her life, and it was quite terrifying to think of just how much of her time was devoted to merely thinking about the blond.

Then again, Hermione thought about Draco quite often, although the situation was quite different.

Her cheeks reddened at the thought of answering this particular question; she didn't really want to let them know just how long she'd been in love with Draco for, especially since she wasn't one hundred percent of the answer herself. But her throat began to itch and her stomach twisted and her mouth opened before she knew it; "Since just before Christmas, but I started liking him near the end of the war."

Of course, she always had to overachieve, didn't she?

"Whore," Pansy snarled. "Have you shagged him? How many times?"

Mortification made her cheeks burn red and she looked away at this question. She really didn't want to divulge anything about her sex life to anyone, Pansy especially. The only person who was aware that she had had sex was Luna, who had given her some advice on how to do the deed. It was far too embarrassing to answer such a question and she wanted to avoid answering it for as long as she could.

Turning away, she closed her eyes as she tried to push aside the will to answer truthfully. Her stomach twisted painfully and her throat itched uncomfortably, but she just couldn't answer. Her modesty was very important, it was one of the few things that she would try to keep a secret no matter what, and she did not want Pansy to know anything.

"Answer me."

Shaking her head, she swallowed thickly, trying to find a way to ease the itching in her throat. The sudden burning feeling on her left arm distracted her from it and she gritted her teeth against the pain. It brought her back to focusing on things, her attention slowly going back to how she'd been nearly successful at summoning her wand. She was close, very close, and if she could just summon it before being too compelled to answer, it would be wonderful. Opening her eyes just the slightest, she kept her sights on the wand, a little grateful that Pansy was currently cutting out various words on her left arm.

"Answer me!"

The wand shifted slightly and elation rose in her body, making her heart jump. Almost there…

"ANSWER ME!"

Choking, the itching so painfully uncomfortable that it made it hard to breathe, she tried to focus all of her strength on summoning her wand.

Pansy stabbed something into her left arm and she let out a loud shout as she threw all of her power into an invisible stream that reached out and grasped her wand, rapidly pulling it back. Before it even reached her fingers, she was already muttering the incantation to free herself of her bindings and managed to rush out of the chair just as Pansy yanked a small blade out of Hermione's left arm.

Blood dripping down her fingers, a good chunk of hair now missing and clasped tightly in Astoria's hands, Hermione stood facing the girls, breathing heavily.

Pansy gawked wide eyed as Astoria made a move for her wand, which she had foolishly left on a nearby table. Raising her wand, Hermione didn't give the girl a chance and sent it flying in the opposite direction, landing in the farthest corner of the room. Unable to stop herself from grinning, Hermione turned her wand back on the two girls.

"To be honest," she finally answered, lifting the wand up in preparation for casting a spell, "I've lost count." With that, she swung down the wand, sending out a brilliant flash of light.

* * *

The stairs felt too tall, the corridors too long, and the school too huge. Every corner rounded led them to another lengthy corridor, every staircase led to another corridor, the corridor to another staircase. Not long ago, Draco loved the way the castle shifted and formed into a maze, but now, when he wanted to get somewhere fast, he absolutely despised it.

He desperately needed to get to her; he had no idea what was happening to her at the moment, didn't have a clue about Parkinson's plans, but he knew that she was deceptively strong when it came to magic; she hadn't been Lestrange's favourite student for nothing.

A part of his mind berated him; he should have known, should have seen the signs. He should have had some inkling of a sensation that Parkinson was not going to be happy about his relationship with Hermione. After all, it wasn't so long ago that she had proclaimed her deep hatred for Hermione and that he had broken her apart when he defended the lovely Gryffindor. He should have known that Parkinson would try and do something. But, then again, he never thought that it would be kidnapping and torture.

His heart had sunk the second he had discovered Hermione's disappearance and it currently lay somewhere at the bottom of his stomach, beating rapidly as he sprinted through the school.

Damn it all, he should have known. It frustrated him, pissed him off that he hadn't seen the signs and that he had always prided himself on his ability to see and understand individuals. He knew Parkinson, knew what she was capable of and what her personality was like, and he should have fucking known that she wasn't going to sit back and do nothing about Hermione.

He was pissed, upset, and beyond desperate to find Hermione before Parkinson could practice Lestrange's spells on her. Bellatrix Lestrange was the cream of the crop when it came to malicious tormentors in the army of Death Eaters. She had taken a great many of lives, most of them through slow and painful torture, and she had passed on most of her expertise to Parkinson. The thought of Parkinson using Lestrange's techniques on Hermione made his blood freeze.

He'd already lost so many people, he couldn't lose Hermione now, not when he had just 'found' her only a few months ago. He couldn't…

'_Don't think about it_,' he thought, trying to push the negative thoughts aside. Parkinson, he knew, was capable of torture, but he was fairly certain that she would never be capable of murder.

Hopefully…

The cool dampness of the dungeons crept up the back of his neck and he knew that they had now descended into the underground of the school, another series of mazes and confusing corridors that he hated even more.

To the inexperienced eye, every hallway in the dungeons looked the same; old, wet stone walls, the same musty smell, the cracked and forgotten doors, leading into the same classroom no matter which door you took.

But he knew, he knew every little crack in the walls, every little spot of moss or mould, and he knew where every corridor led.

When they rounded the last corner and he saw Maryse Felborne, Daphne's best friend, standing near a door, he knew that his suspicions were right. Surging ahead, he sent Maryse flying before she could even express the look of shocked relief at the sight of the group. Pausing in front of the door, he turned to Daphne and before he could even ask, she nodded.

Wand out, he yanked open the door just in time to hear shouted words and bright flash of green.

* * *

"You fucking bitch. I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!"

Spittle flew from Pansy's mouth as she stood before Hermione, eyes wild and face taut, nearly foaming at the mouth like a rabid beast. Astoria lay on the ground next to the Slytherin, unconscious and bound, something Hermione had found was surprisingly easy. It seemed like Astoria was all talk.

Pansy, meanwhile, really did look ready to kill and Hermione was on her guard, keeping an eye on the girl's wand as it shook violently in her hand, sparks shooting out from the tip of it. She kept on shouting curses while Hermione panted softly, wiping blood out of her eyes.

Pansy's arm lifted up and Hermione shielded herself before the curse was cast, rebounding to cause a nearby table to explodes into pieces. Keeping her shield up, Hermione scowled at the girl in front of her. She really wanted to make it fast, to quickly and efficiently take down both girls, get Professor McGonagall and find Draco. She was tired, aching, bleeding, and pissed off, and she really didn't want to see Pansy's face for the rest of her life.

And she couldn't even bluff because of the goddamned Veritaserum, which pissed her off even more.

Fortunately, it seemed like Pansy was not taking that to her advantage. Instead, Hermione was called a bitch yet again and the same curse was sent flying in her direction, to rebound and once again destroy another piece of furniture in the room. Breathing heavily, Hermione kept her eyes trained on the girl in front of her, ignoring the insults that kept making their way out of the girl's mouth.

It was almost too fast for Pansy to see, a quick flick of the wrist and a quiet mumbling of words sent the girl flying across the room, landing hard into the pile of chairs she had stacked aside earlier. Scrambling out of them, tossing each aside, she struggled to her feet and sent another curse flying towards Hermione, hoping that the shield was still down.

The invisible wall formed just seconds before the curse was sent repelling back and Hermione took a deep breath as another crash resounded in the room. This was starting to get on her nerves.

"You call yourself an expert dualist? Honestly, this is pathetic," she sneered as Pansy panted from the other side of the room.

"Don't lie to me, you know I'm good," the other girl snarled, lips curling unattractively.

"One word, Parkinson," Hermione answered, lifting her wand, "Veritaserum." With another swish of the wand, Pansy managed to just barely dodge the explosive attack that sent chairs flying in all directions.

"You fucking bitch!"

Curse after curse was sent flying in her direction, bright flashes of red and blue, and each time the wall flew up and held strong, or her deft feet danced across the floor as she twisted and dodged the attacks. Her body groaned with pain and wear and she wanted nothing more than to just be able to collapse somewhere and take a nice, hot bath, but that was something well out of her reach at the moment. Instead, the only thing she could do was dodge one curse after another, continuously goading the girl into losing more of her emotions, making her more likely to make mistakes.

She needed to end this quickly, she thought after a few more curses were sent her way. It took a lot of effort and power to be able to keep up the shield for this long and it was starting to wear her down. Sweat slid down her brow, the unwelcome, salty tang prominent in her mouth, and her arm began to tremble with exhaustion. She was quickly losing power.

Lowering her shield, she sent a quick stunning curse over to the Slytherin, muttering a curse as it missed, and she threw herself onto the ground to dodge another spell. She had no choice; the shield had to go if she wanted to have enough power to take down Parkinson.

Getting to her feet, she focused her attention across the room. Pansy panted heavily, wiping her face with the back of her free hand as she kept her wand pointed at Hermione. "You're better than I thought you would be," she admitted.

"You're better at dodging that I thought you would be," Hermione answered with a smile, relishing the way the girl's face twisted with anger.

"You know, I'm going to step it up a notch," Pansy said, smiling in a dark, malicious manner that had Hermione on the tips of her toes. Just what was the girl talking about? What was she planning?

Pansy slowly shifted her hand in her fingers, twirling it slightly and raised her arm. She quickly lowered it, twisting her wrist on the way down. "_Frendo!"_

She just barely managed to dodge it, quickly stepping aside and taking a dancing step backwards as a bright red flash was sent her way, cutting diagonally through the air. The loud crunching behind her had her looking back and she could barely hide the shock at the sight of the Professor's desk cut down the middle, each side of the cut crushed as though quickly and savagely pried apart by some kind of splitter.

Turning back to look at Parkinson, it was then that she realized she had underestimated the girl even more. If she knew a spell like this, Hermione was certain that Pansy knew of the kind. She was going to have to watch her step even more; this was getting to be more and more like dealing with a Death Eater.

"Like it? I found it in this neat little book in the library. Maybe you've heard of it, _Vox Mors_, it's quite the fascinating read."

Hermione's brows went up at the book title and a cold shiver ran down her spine. If Pansy had indeed been reading that book, and if she had managed to at least get a coherent grip on some of the spells, she was going to be in for a seriously harder fight than she had earlier expected.

Gripping tightly on her wand, she couldn't help but smile; Hermione Granger wasn't the smartest witch of her time for nothing. She had her own little secret abilities too.

The attack was sent again and she managed to dodge, twisting her body around to send a spell flying back at Pansy. "_Serpenstringo_," she muttered, sending five snakes shooting from the tip of her wand. Quickly, they slid around Pansy's legs, opening their mouths wide to dig their fangs deep into the girl's flesh.

When Pansy let out a loud shriek of fear and pain, Hermione couldn't help but smile at the sound. It felt good to cause the bitch pain, especially after all Hermione had suffered through.

"Now you won't be able to move," Hermione said with a grin, readying her next spell. This had been easier than Pansy had said it would be.

"You bitch!" the Slytherin shouted, pushing through the pain to lift her wand. "Fuck you, I'll fucking cut you open. _Sectumsempra!_"

Eyes wide, Hermione slipped as she dodged away from the bright, green flash of light that moved with the intent to disembowel her. Stumbling, she felt the heat of the curse graze at her hair as she moved to the right, cursing as the tip of it dug deep into her left arm, cutting the flesh to the bone.

It was at this same time that she heard the door to the room come crashing open, dimly hearing the sound of loud curses followed by an even louder thump. Spinning around, her eyes widened in shock to find Draco slumped on the floor, shirt cut and blood surfacing to stain the cloth. Her heart screamed, her mind went blank, and her stomach twisted violently. Rage like no other consumed her very body and she spun around at Pansy, no longer feeling any emotions towards the girl except for white hot fury. Pain overwhelmed her, blanketing her mind in a thick, black fog and white hot flashes of furious lightning flickered throughout her body; she felt nothing, no joy, no love, nothing except for the all consuming pain of loss and rage.

For the second time in her life, Hermione Granger truly and honestly wanted to kill someone. Mercilessly.

The Slytherin, on the other hand, let out a loud shriek at the sight of Draco on the floor, bleeding from his chest. "Draco!" she screamed, face paling so rapidly it seemed inhuman. She struggled against the snakes at her legs, dropping her wand as she fought to get to the man who she had just harmed. "Oh my god, Draco! DRACO!"

"If we were alone," Hermione said suddenly, voice cold and calm, cutting through the screaming like the sharpest blade as her words silenced Pansy, "I would cut you all over your body and feed you to rabid werewolves. If we were alone, you'd be already dead." Pansy visibly shook at the words, eyes wide and red with shock and terror. "For now, I'll just have to knock you out," Hermione ended, disappointment quite evident in her voice. "_Stupefy_," she said, stunning the girl as the snakes faded away, sending the girl flying back. "_Incarcerous_," she finished, sending long and thick ropes out of her wand to wrap tightly around the Slytherin, binding her the same way Astoria was bound.

The second her opponent was down, there was a rapid change in emotions as her heart twisted and fear washed over her body like a bucket of ice dumped over her head. Spinning around, she stumbled, mid-run as she saw Draco get to his feet, pushing away Blaise's offered assistance. Perplexity made her heart tremble, attempting to revive itself within her suddenly cold body, and her movements suddenly felt heavy and leaden, as though every joint was stuck. She didn't know what to think, couldn't possibly twist her mind around what was going on in front of her. Just moments ago, he had lain on the ground, bleeding and unconscious, and yet, now he was awake and clambering to his feet.

Just what was going on…?

"Draco?" Her voice trembled, her throat ached and felt torn apart, and her heart slowly eased in her chest to a light pitter-patter. Exhaustion slowly seeped into her body, and it was a trembling hand that reached out to the wounded blond getting to his feet. "You're okay?"

Warm arms enveloped her as her legs finally gave out and his soothing scent consumed her. She allowed him to hold her for a moment, just long enough to pull at his strength and shove away the hot tears of joy and fear, before she gently pushed him back to look at his chest wound. Reaching out, she gingerly touched the red area around the angry slash, frustrated that it would not stop bleeding.

He sighed heavily and reached up, cupping her bruised and bleeding face in his hands, gently forcing her to look up at him. "I'm fine," he said. "I'm just a little pissed because I finally got rid of the scar from the last time someone used that damn curse on me. I managed to dodge it at the last second." He brushed his thumb across her lip, smearing blood on her skin. "Would it be stupid of me to ask if you're okay?"

In spite of herself, in spite of the aching in her body and the fear still trapped in her heart, she managed a small smile. "I'll be fine," she said softly. She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt tears suddenly return. "I'm fine," she repeated, throat tightening as she suddenly buried her face in his chest and felt her heart explode in pain as the tears slid down her face. She choked and hiccoughed on her sobs as he held her tight, burying his face in her hair as she cried in his arms, letting out all of the fear, all of the pain, and all of the happiness swelling in her heart.

"I…I thou…thought…" she stammered, trying to catch her breath through her sobs.

He gently hushed her with a kiss to the forehead, pulling her closer to him. He didn't need her to tell him, didn't need to hear the words when he saw the thoughts in her eyes. She had thought she he had been killed, and he knew and understood the pain of that feeling all too well.

It was just as she began to gather her thoughts and catch her breath, pulling away to wipe away her tears with her dirty and bloodied hands that a loud cry of shock came from the door. The couple turned to look at the doorway and their eyes widened with surprise when they found Professors McGonagall and Morningstar standing with their wands out, faces twisted with shock. A body shoved its way between the two of them and a dark-haired blur rushed over to Hermione.

"H…Harry?" she asked, pulling away from the embrace. "When did you get back?"

"Are you okay? What happened? Why the hell didn't you tell me anything about this? I could've helped you, you know!" he began, words coming out in a rush of almost indiscernible speech.

A warm blush crept over her cheeks as she patted his arms, trying to calm him down. "I…I understand you're angry, but please, you have to understand."

"I think, Miss Granger, that we would all like to understand just what happened here," Professor McGonagall interrupted. Her face was a strange combination, torn between care and severity, like a mother who gave tough love finding out her favourite child had been hurt, wanting to run over and console the child yet sternly tell the child off for not obeying the rules.

Giving Harry a quick squeeze, a promise that she would tell him everything and give him all of her explanations as soon as possible, she nodded towards the Headmistress and the group began the process of cleaning up and explaining everything. The whole time, she kept her hand squeezed tightly around Draco's, grateful that neither of them were fatally injured. As they stepped out of the decimated classroom, she gently squeezed his hand.

"I just wanted to tell you that I love you," she murmured softly when he lowered his head to hers.

Softly, he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and he held her hand tighter. "I love you too."

In spite of the pain, the fear, and the anger, love always managed to sneak its way into her heart and make the sun shine brightly. It made her realize that today, no matter how painful it had been, it was a good day to be alive, because it meant that they could live to love each other for another day.

_"One word frees us all of the weight and pain of life; that word is love."_ - Sophocles

* * *

**Hey everyone. **

**Sorry for the long wait, I have been going absolutely insane with school work and I decided to take a few moments out of my time today to finalize and post this up as a little gift to you before I go die over more school crap.  
I hope it's worth the wait; I do plan on going back and fixing a few things here or there, but right now, I felt that I just had to post this so that you lovely readers wouldn't have to wait any longer. Thank you all for your undying patience. 3**

Enjoy reading!  
P.S. I can't promise that I will be updating anytime soon, as my Fall semester finals are coming up and I'm ready to set the school on fire. But, I will try to make time between studying and dying to continue writing. Thanks!

Now please go review, I love hearing your feedback! 33  



	22. Closure

**So I owe you guys a quick apology; firstly, during Christmas vacation, I pretty much didn't use my laptop very often because I only had a week and a half off of school and it was a cruel reminder of school (I also kind of just wanted to totally vegetate on my few days off). **

**Secondly, this semester I've so far handed in 5 essays, plus 2 writing assignments, had 4 midterms (3 in the same week, 2 on the same day), weekly tests, a drama performance, 6 quizzes, and I still have 2 major papers to write, plus 4 final exams. So, needless to say, I've barely had any time for myself. Did I also mention that I had to read 9 books for 2 classes?  
**

**However, it doesn't fully excuse me for not really writing much this semester. **

**So basically, I want to just apologize for not making the time to write these past few months. I feel quite awful and I really want to try to make it up to you guys as much as I can. You are all such amazing, patient and understanding readers and I couldn't ask for a better group. So thank you guys for being awesome, and I'm sorry for being less-than-awesome recently. I will work hard to make up for it!**

**P.S. I apologize for the length of the beginning of this chapter; I know it's not amazing stuff, but consider it house-cleaning after everything that happened in the last chapter. I know most authors would skip over this, but I wanted to show it because it was important in dealing with our evil bitches and giving some finality to what happened in the last chapter. This way, there shouldn't be any questions. Hopefully….**

**So, without further ado…**

**Here's Chapter 22!**

**I hope you guys like it. **

* * *

**Chapter 22**

**Closure  
**

"How's she doing?"

"She's stable." Silence thickened in the room as the speaker paused, the only sounds coming from a repetitive drip as fluid dropped from one small beaker into a larger one, and the faint tap-tap-tapping of a clock's gears and hands shifting with the passing time. There was a small intake of breath, a hesitant shuffle, and the second speaker's voice rose again; "She should be waking any minute now, so please stop glaring at me like that."

Gray eyes narrowed even more and clothing rustled loudly as pales arms crossed tightly across a lean, strong chest. Draco sat cross-legged on one of the cots in the Hospital Wing, keeping his eyes focused on the Mediwitch currently bent over the still figure lying in the opposite bed. "You said that ten minutes ago," he grumbled loudly, ignoring the curious stare coming from a certain wild-haired, green-eyed Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die taking up the bed on the other side of the occupied one in front of Draco.

Originally, Luna and Blaise had also set up a spot near Hermione, at the foot of her bed, but Madame Pomfrey had loudly complained about too many people in such a small space and quickly shooed them out of the Hospital Wing. He knew that they were outside, waiting patiently for any news on Hermione's status. Luna loved the girl and Blaise, surprisingly, had grown rather fond of her too.

At the other end of the room, well behind him, he could hear the faint sounds of feet as Professors McGonagall and Morningstar looked over the culprits and questioned Daphne and Maryse. Draco couldn't help but wonder what would happen to the two girls who dared go against their friendship to save the life of a girl they barely cared for. '_What will Hermione do?'_ he thought grimly, trying to determine whether she could be forgiving or cold-hearted. He'd experienced enough of her many sides to know that she performed both roles with extreme passion.

Glancing back at the cot in front of him, he hesitated to reach out and grab her hand as soon as Madame Pomfrey shuffled out of the way. He yearned for her touch, ached to soothe any pain within her, yet his childish rivalry with Death-Defying-Potty-Face created an immature dilemma deep within his mind. He honestly wished that it could have been easier to throws aside childhood rivalries and become forgiving adults, but it was hard not to scowl and pout when Potter was around.

While the man was kind enough to him, he couldn't help but still feel a tad bit of annoyance when the Scarhead was nearby.

And, of course, Hermione would call him an idiot.

A noise from the curtained area hiding McGonagall and Morningstar temporarily distracted Potter, so Draco quickly slid from his cot to the empty chair behind Hermione, latching onto her hand and shifting the seats to cover their entwined fingers. He was glad that he was deft and quiet, because Potter quickly turned his gaze back to his best female friend on the bed, giving Draco another curious look at the sudden change in position.

The blond, on the other hand, sneered.

"I really wish you two could get along for five minutes."

The raspy voice made his head turn so fast he thought he could have gotten whiplash. Looking down, he was unable to fight back the smile that slid over his face at the sight of a pair of gentle amber eyes looking up at him. Dimly, he heard Potter shift on the other cot, probably moving to come and hug her, but Draco was suddenly overwhelmed by every little emotion he felt towards Hermione. Pain, fear, stress, despair, passion, happiness, lust, relief, and, strongest of all, love. Leaning down, he gingerly cupped her face in his hands, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Draco," she said softly, not fighting his sudden actions, "how long was I out for?"

"Too long," he muttered, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. "How are you feeling?" He leaned back, examining her face. There was a cruel, blotchy bruised that darkened the right side of her face, wrapping around an eye that, moments ago, had been almost swollen shut. His thumb hovered over the healing cut on her lip, wishing that he could make all of the cuts and bruises go away with another kiss.

"To be honest," she admitted softly, "I don't feel as terrible as I expected to." She shifted, attempting to sit up, but her left arm, bandaged and swollen, would have none of it and Draco's hand quickly shot out to cradle her back as her arm gave way. "Bugger," she muttered, cursing under her breath, "I hate this."

He let out a quiet chuckle in spite of himself. "If you're going to complain like that all the time, I might just leave you here alone to fend for yourself." The twinkling joy faded from his eyes as his expression softened. Lowering his voice, he glanced over to see that Potter had somehow disappeared, probably off to fetch Madame Pomfrey, and whispered, "Be honest, love, how bad does it hurt?"

Grimacing, she allowed her body's weight to lean on Draco's supportive arm, letting her head fall to gingerly relax on his shoulder as he sat on the bed beside her. "The only reason I'll be honest," she said the moment she was comfortable, "is because I saw the way you whined like an immature child when you were sick." Before he could come up with a retort, she quickly continued, "It hurts a hell of a lot more than I thought it would. Mainly my left arm."

Her left arm was currently bandaged, but he knew exactly why it hurt so much. The wounds had been deep, vicious words savagely cut into her flesh so that eventually her arm was covered with thick rivulets of crimson blood. Words that he wanted to carve into the back of Pansy, stabbing at her spine and ribs to make her feel the pain Hermione felt with each letter. Then there was the Sectumsempra slash, cut to the bone, that required much more healing balm that expected and a few minor stitches by Madame Pomfrey. He had gotten off easy; his cuts had not been nearly as deep, a light grazing of the attack that required a very minor amount of healing magic this time around.

So he knew exactly why her left arm hurt, he knew precisely why it gave out of her, and he wanted nothing more than to take away every little bit of pain she felt.

Instead, all he could do is press a gentle kiss to her forehead and hurry out of the way when Madame Pomfrey came bustling back towards the bed, followed by Potter. Damn Potty-Four-Eyes, couldn't he have waited a few more minutes so he could have talked a little bit longer with her? Sneaky bastard.

As a result, he was forced to listen to Madame Pomfrey scold him for getting too close to Hermione and not waiting for her approval as she looked over the wounds and checked to make sure Hermione felt okay. After administering a quick pain relieving spell, she called over Professor McGonagall in between her scolding sentences. Potter, that bastard, didn't even have the decency to look the slightest bit apologetic; instead going over to talk to Hermione the second Pomfrey had turned her back on the patient.

Damn Gryffindors and their so-called 'courage.'

He was scowling and feeling somewhat cranky and argumentative when McGonagall made her way over, leaving Professor Morningstar to watch over the two bitches who dared to hurt his Hermione. He knew, from the sounds of shuffling feet, that Maryse and Daphne were near the paralyzed girls, swinging their feet back and forth as they hung off of a bed, anxiously awaiting their punishment.

He knew what they expected to happen, knew that they were waiting for Professor McGonagall to shout out that they were expelled and could never set foot in Hogwarts again.

What he did not expect, once McGonagall had begun the process of questioning Hermione and Draco, was for him to pipe up and argue that Maryse and Daphne deserved a suspension, banishment from all Hogsmeade visits, and detention every Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights with Filch for the rest of the year. It was strange, to suddenly want to support the two girls, but deep down, he understood why.

If Daphne had not coming running towards them, if Maryse had not willingly, without question, opened the door to the room for them, then it was very likely that Hermione could be dead.

Or on her way to St. Mungo's with a whole slew of physical and psychological problems.

Silence filled the room after he spoke up and Hermione gave him a strange but slightly knowing look. Potter, on the other hand, looked positively confused, and Professor McGonagall's stern gaze demanded an adequate explanation.

"They saved her," he answered lamely, ignoring all potential embarrassment as he reached over to grab Hermione's right hand in his left. "It's become very clear that they were unwilling participants in this whole thing; Without any question or hesitation, Daphne came running to find me and tell me what was going on. If she hadn't done that, then there's a chance Hermione wouldn't be here right now."

"What about Miss Felborne?" the Headmistress asked, crossing her arms sternly, although her face glinted with something akin to understanding. "She did not come to tell you about Miss Granger's situation."

"But she kept watch," Draco said. "The second we were down there, she opened the door for us and ran to find you. She was the one who brought you and Professor Morningstar down to the dungeons, just in case anything happened. She couldn't leave her post because if Pansy or Astoria decided to look outside, it would seem too suspicious. If Maryse stayed, then she could say Daphne had to go to the bathroom. Clearly, from the way they had positioned themselves and were acting, this had been pre-meditated. They intended to tell us about it from the get-go."

Hermione gently brushed her thumb on the back of his hand, adding a gentle touch of pressure to his skin. It was her subtle, soothing way of letting him know that she agreed and believed him. It was not to say that she was a person who easily forgave; the war had been hard and cruel on all of them and had taught them the meaning of ruthlessness and betrayal. She had been one of the most savage warriors on their side, brutally taking down any and all enemies without a single question. But, if they begged for mercy, she had been willing to listen until they decided to turn their wand on her again. Then, there would be no more mercy.

He had been the same, perhaps less merciful, only because he had grown up with these men, had been surrounded by their faces and had seen more than one side of them. It had been hard to kill his friends' parents, even harder to take down his childhood friends.

But now, the war was over, their minds were clearer, and they were more willing and able to listen to the other side. Perhaps, the war had made them more understanding.

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione said softly, shifting slightly on the bed, "what Draco says is true. When I was in the library, if I remember correctly, there were only two people attacking me. I don't remember seeing Daphne or Maryse there at all. And," she added, "at one point during the…torture…one of them stepped into the room." She paused, taking a small sip of the water Draco offered her when her voice grew raspy.

"What happened when she walked in?" The Headmistress was patient, but she, unfortunately, did not have all night to deal with the situation; it was almost five in the morning and she had several calls to make on parents, St. Mungo's, and, possibly, Azkaban. She still had quite a lot ahead of her and was running on no sleep. No sleep made her a very cranky person.

"She said that we'd been in there a long time, and that this wasn't the way the plan was. She said she thought they were only supposed to scare me and didn't want any part in it any longer."

"What did they do?"

Draco already knew the answer. Maryse had been the one to step in and step up, if the bruising on her face and broken wrist was any indicator. This was probably when Daphne had run off to find them.

His thoughts were proven true on Hermione's words and he felt his heart sink a bit at the addition that Pansy threatened to get her cousin, a rather big and savage fellow, to rape Maryse and kill Maryse's little brother in front of her. It was more than enough to get anyone to back off.

The Headmistress' shocked expression would have been comical if it weren't for the current situation. Stunned for words, all she could do was glance over to the wounded and unwilling participant and the violent enforcer paralyzed on the bed. He read her eyes and saw the anger and frustration at being unable to stop the situation sooner.

Rubbing her face, the Headmistress let out a soft sigh before straightening her shoulders and hardening her gaze. "Is there any other evidence?"

"Daphne came to me."

Heads turned and eyes focused on the figure at the doorway, watching as Blaise stepped fully into the room. Luna was standing behind him, arms raised as though she had shoved him into the Infirmary without any hesitation.

"Pardon me?"

"Daphne, she came to see me beforehand, she told me about everything. Or at least as much as she could," Blaise admitted, moving forward until he reached the end of Hermione's bed. Once he had everyone's focus, he told them of what happened earlier that night, when Daphne had found him after supper. He even added a gentle apology to Luna when reciting the kiss he had shared with Daphne, although, as expected, Luna was rational about it and seemed more content with the fact that her boyfriend had saved her friend's life. It was rather adorable, actually.

By the time he finished, the only sound heard was from the girls, shifting uncomfortably on their bed, inching their way away from the paralyzed duo, as though terrified Pansy and Astoria would come to life at any moment and attack them for their betrayal.

Instead, Professor Morningstar kept vigil and the Headmistress let out another sigh, this time of relief.

"What do you think we should do with them, then, Miss Granger? As Head Girl, I know that you are capable of meting out punishments, and, given that you are the victim here, I think it is only suffice that you determine what we do with Miss Felborne and Miss Greengrass."

This was a rarity; Professor McGonagall would have never, beforehand, allowed a student to decide on the punishment of another. But this was an extreme case and, after their experience in the war, Hermione was glad that the Headmistress felt she was mature enough to come to a decision on her own.

"I have to agree with what Draco said," she said after a moment's thought. "They don't deserve expulsion, because I don't think that they've really done anything to deserve it. But, for not stepping forward sooner, I feel that they should be banned from Hogsmeade trips for the remainder of the school year, have detentions every weekend for the rest of the semester, except for during exam periods, and I think that, while I recuperate, they should take notes for me in my classes."

Draco was suddenly scowling at the last proposition and quickly crossed his arms in response, sending a quick, childish glance to Hermione. "No, I refuse the last one. Daphne takes horrid notes, and Maryse had strange writing. I'll take your notes; I don't trust them to do it."

Hermione rolled her eyes and jabbed her boyfriend in the ribs with her thumb. "You're so childish sometimes," she muttered.

He resisted the urge to stick out his tongue in retaliation.

Breathing out, she relaxed further on her stack of pillows. "Very well, then I think that, instead of taking my notes, they should be part of the clean-up duty for the Graduates' Ball and that they should stay one extra week at the beginning of summer, to help clean up the classrooms. Do you think that would be enough?"

The Headmistress paused to think for a moment, although Draco knew the answer before the woman had even decided upon it. While Daphne and Maryse had been involved in the initial plotting, they had clearly been unwilling participants and against the abduction of Hermione. He knew that they did not necessarily deserve expulsion and figured that weekends with Filch and summer cleaning would have them thinking over their actions with every little scrub and broken nail. Nothing would ever make up for the amount of pain Hermione had suffered because they couldn't make up their minds earlier, but he knew that if threatened correctly, any individual would give in to a vicious leader's wishes. He also knew that McGonagall fully understood this as well.

"I suppose that the punishment would be sufficient. I will, of course, be contacting their parents to let them know of the situation and they can deal with them accordingly." Shifting on the seat she had brought over, the Headmistress unconsciously rubbed her temples, trying to push away a headache of fatigue and frustration. She had hoped that once Voldemort had been defeated, these kinds of major problems would have stopped. But, of course, Harry Potter and his group of friends always had to prove her wrong.

"What do you wish to do with Miss Parkinson and the younger Miss Greengrass? Do you wish to press charges?"

"Yes."

That was no surprise.

"But, I want Pansy to go through a full psychological evaluation before they determine her sentence."

Now _that_ was a surprise.

It was their perplexed and shocked looks that prompted her to move forward; "Astoria was clearly in the right state of mind and manipulated Pansy to push things further. It became very clear to me the more time I was forced to spend with them. Pansy, however, seemed too erratic, like something in her mind snapped and that's what pushed her over. I know," Hermione continued when Harry sent her a look of disbelief, "that Pansy has always been rather violent and passionate, but this seemed too extreme, just like Ron. I don't think she has the same thing at all as Ron, but I think that obsession can become a type of psychological problem."

"But Hermione, she carved…th…those words into your arm!" Harry exclaimed, gesturing to the bandaged wounds. "She tried to kill you!"

"I'm well aware of that, Harry," the brunette answered bluntly. She felt unnaturally calm after all of this experience, perhaps from the trauma of the war or due to the pain relieving potions Madame Pomfrey had administered. Whatever the cause was, it helped her mind remain clear and thoughts focused. For the moment, she was grateful for it; she could panic and go into shock later, but right now she needed to focus on the task at hand.

"But, in spite of her actions, I don't want to put someone with a severe psychological problem in Azkaban, it won't alleviate the problem, only make it worse. It would be better that she get a psychological evaluation to determine her state of mind before we go through with the trial. But, of course, I want it to be conducted in my presence, and I want it to be done by the PsychWitch of my choice. I will not have her family getting some family friend pulling the Insanity plea just to get her out of Azkaban. And, if it is only a minor psychological problem, where she was still very much aware of her actions, I want her to part of her sentence in the care of witches, and the remainder in Azkaban." Hermione adjusted her position, taking a sip of water offered by Draco.

"These feelings she has are not recent, so we can prove that there is some pre-meditation to her actions. With that in mind, I want her and Astoria to go through rehabilitation programs once their sentence has been served. I just want them to understand that Muggle-Born or Pureblood, we're not different from one another. If it can make them just a little more tolerant towards Muggle-Born, then I'll be happy."

"You forgot their expulsion," Draco chimed in once she finished, earning a rolling of her eyes in his direction. He knew that she was mentally chiding him for being so blatantly obvious.

"Well, I thought that would be obvious," she drawled in perfect imitation of his older, over-used drawl.

He flashed her his winning smile, earning a small chuckle in response. His hand reached back down to hold hers just as the Headmistress spoke up.

"Are you okay with this, Miss Granger? Expulsion of both Astoria Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson, assault and kidnapping charges will be laid on the two of them, along with a mandatory psychological evaluation for Miss Parkinson. Then rehabilitation once their sentence is completed. Is that correct?" By this time, Professor McGonagall had summoned a piece of parchment and was in the process of writing down the list of punishments for each girl. She needed to keep record of everything, or it was likely to be muddled or altered once the Wizengamot court day came.

"Yes, that's right."

"Very well, now we've got a catalogue of your injuries, an account of the event, an…"

"Are you done questioning her?" Madame Pomfrey seemed to appear out of nowhere, bristling with frustration over her patient being disallowed her much needed rest.

"Yes, Poppy, I was just about to…"

"Then leave! The poor girl needs her rest. Leave, all of you! And I want those two," she gestured to Astoria and Pansy while giving Hermione a sleeping draught, "to be taken away from here as soon as possible. I've treated their wounds, very minor really, and I want them out of my sight. Now go!" She muttered to herself about savages and her disgust over students attacking fellow students for stupid things like love, making her way back to her office.

Collecting her things, the Headmistress wished Hermione a good recovery and said that Aurors would arrive shortly to collect Pansy and Astoria. They were to remain in custody at the Ministry of Magic until their court date. She then made her way out, followed by Blaise and Luna, the latter of whom gave Hermione a small talisman bearing the image of a turnip that smelled like fresh soil and mint. Apparently it was to ward off infection and promote good health. For the sole reason that the mint smelt nice, Hermione slipped it under her pillow.

Then came the silent fight. Who was to leave last? Harry, the only best friend Hermione had had in her entire life, or Draco, the only true love of Hermione's life? One could argue that it was like a brother versus a boyfriend.

Sighing heavily, watching as they sparred with glares, she gestured towards the door. "Why don't you both leave at the same time? It'll save all of this macho stuff." Her words slurred slightly, the effects of potion finally taking hold. Only after her words were spoken did she realize her last sentence didn't make complete sense. But by then, her eyes were growing heavy and she found her body sliding down on the bed.

Draco was quick to react, fighting back a smirk when his reflexes were just a little faster than Harry's. He adjusted the pillows for her, helping her move to a comfortable position.

"Draco, stop smirking, you look like a prat," she mumbled, unconsciously nuzzling his hand.

His smile quickly fell as Harry's rose. "You too, Harry. Honestly, you're both stupid," she added with her eyes shut.

Both men glanced at each other before each let out a sigh. Draco leaned back when Harry moved forward, squeezing Hermione's hand as gently as possible. "I'm glad you're okay, 'Mione. I don't know what I would've done if they had killed you. But please, next time, tell me when you're having a problem like this. We're best friends, I'll always support you."

"I know," she breathed with a smile, still not opening your eyes. "Thank you Harry, for always being there. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner."

"It's okay, just rest now." He leaned over and gave her a small kiss on the forehead, a chaste, brotherly sign of affection. Standing up, he gave Draco a quick look, before making his way to the door.

The second Harry left, Draco gently drew the curtains around the bed, blocking out the vision of Professor Morningstar as he quietly greeted two Aurors who walked in as Harry stepped out. Maryse and Daphne were gone, probably beckoned out with Professor McGonagall to continue their discussion in her office. For now, however, Draco focused his attention on the woman in the bed before him.

Sitting back down, he held her hand once more, rubbing his thumb over the back. He watched as her chest slowly rose and fell with each quiet breath. He wanted nothing more than to press his head against her chest, to listen to every soothing heartbeat. A soft, pulsating reminder that she was well and alive, not bloodied and near-death in some dungeon classroom.

"I want you to stay here."

Her voice was barely a whisper, but it made the deepest, darkest blush rise over his cheeks. Never before had anyone asked him to stay at their bedside, never before had anyone ever said this with such painful longing. It made his heart ache with joy and his cheeks flood with delighted embarrassment.

"I wish I could, but Madame Pomfrey would go mental on me," he whispered back, wanting to keep their conversation as private as possible.

She shifted in the bed, lazily sliding over just enough so that he could lie down next to her. Letting go his hand, she sluggishly patted the bed, indicating that she wanted him to lie down. "Please."

Sighing softly, he stuck his head out of the curtains, checking to ensure that Madame Pomfrey was in her office and her light was off, before gingerly making his way onto the bed. He didn't pull up the covers, in case he needed to make a quick escape underneath the bed, but he waited for her to shift and lie on his body.

"You know," she said once her head rested on his shoulder, his arm resting under her pillow, "I was scared today. Really scared."

"I know love," he answered, reaching across his chest to grab her hand in his.

"No…I was really, really scared…for the first time, I was scared of never seeing someone again. Before, during the war, I thought that if I died, at least it would be for a good cause, that Harry and Ron could live on and keeping fighting. But now…today, I was terrified that I would never see you again. I was afraid…" she choked back a sob, unable to fight the warm tears that slid down her cheeks, "I was afraid that the last words I would ever say to you were that studying was more important than spending time with you. I'm…I'm sorry for saying that, by the way. I really didn't mean it."

Reaching over, he brushed away a tear as gently as he could, careful of her bruised face. Shifting, he turned his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then another, trying to kiss away the pain. "I know, love, I do. I'm sorry for not asking about things sooner, and I'm sorry for being an idiot who couldn't see the signs right away." He moved a bit, sliding down so that his feet hung off the bed, but his face was in front of hers. His lips brushed hers for a brief moment, easing away her internal pain. "Please don't cry, love. It's okay now."

"I know." She swallowed thickly, trying to push away the crying and the beckoning sleep. "I know…but it's hard."

"You're with me now, Hermione, that's all that matters. You're safe with me, in my arms, and I'll never let you go." He kissed her again.

"Promise?

"I promise."

She curled into him as best as she could, ignoring the throbbing pain coming from every cut and bruise on her body. Sleep overwhelmed her, closing her eyes as she let out a quiet sigh of contentment.

"I love you, Draco."

Her words were a murmur, a soft, feathery sound whispering in the air, yet they were filled with a heavy, profound and deep emotion that weighed the words and increased their strength.

Leaning over, he pressed one more kiss to her temple, watching as she fell asleep.

"I love you too."

Stroking her hair, he allowed sleep to slowly overcome him just as the first rays of sunlight crept into the room. It had been a painfully long night and his heart ached from the worry and pain. Slowly, as his eyes shut, sleep swallowed him and eased away the fears in his heart.

When Madame Pomfrey came by a few hours later, the peaceful expressions on their face moved her stony heart just enough to keep her voice low and her compassion strong. She quietly checked on Hermione and, unlike her usual self, decided, for the first time in a long time, to let the two be and not scold them. Later on, when they woke and felt refreshed, then she could give them a good yelling. But for now, she would let them sleep and dream their peaceful dreams.

* * *

Once their minds were clear and bodies relaxed, they went through the difficult and grueling process of retelling their story to the Aurors and all others brought in. It had been difficult to face the shocked expressions on the faces of Daphne's and Maryse's parents, but Hermione had endured it and recounted everything that had happened. It was even harder when she began to relive the moments, suddenly able to smell the sickly musty air combined with the coppery sharpness of blood, able to hear the crashing and screaming at the back of mind, and several times she found herself grasping at her wounds when memories of pain flooded to the forefront of her mind.

Each and every time, Draco's touch soothed her, a gentle caress on her arm, a soft squeeze around her hands, or, rarely and embarrassingly, a tender kiss on her temple. He was her rock, he kept her weighted down when the medication wore off and pain threatened to overwhelmed. He helped her when she fought back tears, not only reminiscing of the pain of the kidnapping, but all of the other memories it brought back up. Mainly those she experienced during the war, on the floor of his Manor with Bellatrix looming over her.

She, of course, didn't voice this, in fear that he would feel guilt or pain over hers, and she also feared that it would push him away to recall his own torturous times spent in that Manor. Instead, she kept those memories to herself, struggling to keep a handle on them when her emotions were running high.

For hours they discussed what to do, for hours she re-experienced the pain and torment, and once it was done, she spent more hours in the Hospital Wing, cradled in his arms or alone in her thoughts when he had to go to collect dinner or books. It was lonely and painful, those times, and often she found herself abnormally excited upon his return, her heart leaping joyfully at the sight of his smiling face.

She attributed it to the potential loss; if he had not moved fast enough, if Pansy had just been a bit quicker or a bit more to one side, then the chances were great that he would have bled out in her arms. This very idea made her heart ache with fear and an overwhelming longing to see his face threatened to consume her.

Of course, she did not voice these thoughts either, willing to push through it alone.

After five long, slow and painful days, she was finally deemed healthy enough to go back to her daily activities.

After five long days, they had also found a way to hide the truth and create a new, more interesting rumour to spread through the school to explain Pansy and Astoria's absences. Pansy was, it said, to be married off to a rich Russian wizard and had been sent off to Moscow to live with him at his estate. Astoria, on the other hand, had suddenly eloped with an American and had suddenly disappeared on that fateful weekend. Although neither of these rumours contained a grain of truth, nor were there any precedents that might explain them, they were nonetheless believed by the student with the aid of Daphne and a letter written by Pansy's parents.

So, it was with great relief that Hermione was able to walk around the school without any fear of rumours or the scrutinizing looks of her fellow classmates. Although many questions were raised surrounding her sudden disappearance and the bruises still adorning her face, she was able to quickly explain that she had fallen asleep in the library, fell off of her chair, and slammed her face into the desk and a pile of books.

Surprisingly, it was more quickly believed by the student body than the stories about Pansy and Astoria.

It kind of made her a little sad.

It was now two weeks since the incident and Hermione was sitting comfortably at the Gryffindor table, squished between an over-protective Harry and a famished Neville. She watched Draco from his spot at the Slytherin table, eyeing the way he gestured as he spoke to Blaise. She loved the feline nature of his movement, the smooth gliding, as though each movement came effortlessly.

"'Mione?"

Jerked out of her thoughts, which were slowly moving towards adult territory, she turned her head to glance at Ginny, who sat in front of Harry. "Yes?"

"Are you okay? You seemed a bit out of it?" the redhead asked, shifting on her seat, clearly playing footsy with her boyfriend under the table.

"Yeah, I was just thinking," the brunette responded, shoving a spoonful of potatoes in her mouth.

"What about?"

"Oh, uh," she fought back the blush at her previous thoughts, which involved Draco's slowly moving over and around her naked body, "just things."

"What kind of…"

"Let's just stop it at that," Harry interrupted, having followed Hermione's gaze and knowing full well just what his best friend had been thinking about. It was the last thing he wanted to hear at this moment, maybe in his entire life. He'd rather see Ron naked doing the Macarena, than hear about Hermione's sex-thoughts. It was just…wrong.

"Anyway," Hermione sighed with relief, "what were you asking me before?"

Ginny suddenly shifted in her seat, excitement glittering in her eyes. "Yes, I was wondering if you had started any plans for the end of year ball, for the graduating year, of course."

"Oh yes, of course." A few days ago, that would've been a lie. Between the court hearing before the Wizengamot last week, resulting in the sentencing of Pansy and Astoria to Azkaban for ten years – Pansy had been deemed psychologically stable – and getting back on track with school, the Graduates' Ball had been the last thing on her mind. But now that things had been settled, quicker than expected, and her work was back where it ought to be, she was able to focus on more things. "I was actually planning on discussing it at tonight's Prefects and Heads meeting."

"Oh really? Do you think…well, at the other Balls, often times Seventh Year students who were dating those in years below weren't able to bring their dates. Do you think that this time around…maybe the younger students could come?" the redhead looked up at Hermione with anticipation, hoping for the right answer.

She didn't even need to think of it for a second. "Of course, Ginny. So long as their partner is in the Fifth Year and above, I don't see why there would be a problem. Besides, a Seventh Year shouldn't be dating anyone under the Fifth Year, it just feels wrong."

"But you dated Krum when you were in your Fourth Year," Neville suddenly piped up, breaking into their conversation.

Rubbing her face, she groaned at the memory of that relationship. It really hadn't ended as well as she had hoped; their ages had just been too great and he had had far more mature ideas in mind than she. It ended in a rather awkward situation that she had hoped to forget.

"Let's not discuss that, please."

"Discuss what? My masculine virility? My astonishingly handsome face? Or my devilish charm? I suppose those things are a little too erotic to discuss with Longbottom, he might fall in love with me."

Rolling her eyes, turned in her seat, "Oh Draco, your ego never ceases to amaze me. Would you please go on?"

"With pleasure…" the blond said with a broad grin, watching as Neville's face reddened, Ginny fought back a smile in an attempt to remain spiteful towards him, and Harry pushed up his glasses with his middle finger. Hermione, meanwhile, reached out and pinched Draco hard just below the ribs. "Oy!"

"Shut it or I'll show them just how ticklish you are," his lover threatened, quite serious.

"I surrender," he whispered with a smirk. With speed and precision, he suddenly moved forward and stole a kiss from her lips. "Only to you, though."

Eyes shifted around the Great Hall, students watching with eagerness to see the sudden display of affection. In the past month, minds had slowly shifted from uncertainty and shock to joy and curiosity. It had taken less time than expected, but with the old, Pureblooded thoughts receding from the school life, she felt that the students were more liberated and free in their thinking.

It felt nice, for a change, to have smiling eyes on her rather than the criticizing ones.

"Pervert," she grinned, pushing him back lightly. He, of course, exaggerated it and purposely fell back into a group of Hufflepuff boys watching the situation unfold. Grasping his chest, he cried out, "Did you see that? Spousal abuse if I ever saw it!"

Collecting her bags, she reached out and poked him in the side. "Stop the useless dramatics, Draco, you're making a fool of yourself."

"Yes," he answered as she bade goodbye to her friends, telling Ginny she would discuss the Ball at the meeting later that evening, and they made their way out, "but I made you smile. You haven't smiled enough today."

"How do you know how much I smile in a day?" She felt a bit uncomfortable under the watchful eyes of the students, squirming under their gazes.

"Because," he answered as they stepped out and, even though no one was around to hear, he lowered his voice, "I watch you all day, just like you were watching me before."

Blushing at being caught, she resisted the urge to poke him in the side. "Stalker," she snapped out as they walked to their next class.

"No," he said, spinning around and pushing her against the nearest wall, "just a man in love," he finished on a whisper, pressing a kiss behind her ear.

Her blush deepened and she looked around the hallway, trying to find some excuse in the deserted area to not conduct in such a way in public. "Draco," she murmured, "someone could find us."

"So? They all know we're together." He pressed another kiss to her flesh this time, just below her lobe. "It's about time they seem some more intimacy between students in this school."

She shivered at his breath on her flesh and her face burned. "But…"

"No buts." He slid his lips along her jaw. "After everything we've been through, I think we need to bring some more normality back to our lives, don't you agree?"

"When were our lives ever normal?" she answered, sliding her bag down to the ground to reach up and caress his face, succumbing to his soothing touches.

"Well," he thought, "never really, but it would be nice to make them feel a bit normal, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose."

"Then," he said with a grin, "let's start by, finally, acting like a normal couple madly in love with each other."

"By snogging in the middle of the hallway? Doesn't that just make us perverts who can't get a room?"

"It's what normal couples do," he pointed out, feathering kisses on her cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut in spite of herself.

"I suppose," she admitted, "we could finally use a bit of 'normal' in our lives, after everything."

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Slowly, as liquid heat rose from her belly to swallow her body, he teased her lips with his tongue, sliding effortlessly between them to tangle with hers. Her body, once stiff with trepidation and fear, melted under his touch and her hands sought his silken hair to glide through the locks.

They slowly broke away, just as tenderly as the kiss began, and both were panting lightly, breath mingling in the small space between their mouths. Her blush had deepened, making her cheeks glow with lust, and his eyes had darkened, swirling, tempestuous clouds of desire. Leaning down, he pressed his forehead against hers and breathed out a soft sigh.

"You haven't been sleeping much."

Blinking, she fumbled for a way to respond, not wanting to worry him more than he already was. Slowly, the lust subsided as reality set in. He was distracting her, teasing her mind and catching her off-guard. She should have been upset, should have been angry, but the love behind his actions eased her annoyance.

"Please remember," he pressed a kiss to her forehead, "if anything, _anything_, is bothering you, please tell me. In the past, I used to try and give you as many nightmares as possible, but now…now I just want to take them all away. I love you."

A smile slid over her face, soft and loving, filled with an indescribable amount of passion. She slid her hands down to cup his face, pushing him back so she could properly look up into his swirling, grey eyes.

"I love you too, Draco, more than I've ever loved anyone in my entire life. If anyone had told me, even a year ago, that I would be madly in love with you, I would've thought they'd gone mental. But I do, I love you very much." She reached up and pressed a tender kiss to his mouth. "The nightmares," she continued as they broke away, "are normal. I'm merely recalling parts of that night, and other…memories from the war. I'm just trying to recollect and reconfigure everything and my brain is focusing a little too much on what happened."

"What memories are you remembering?"

Her stomach twisted with guilt, knowing that she shouldn't be mentioning this, but also acknowledging that, in order to have a strong relationship, she had to be able to discuss anything and everything with him. Communication, being open and honest, was important, and dishonesty had once almost destroyed their relationship.

"It was, please don't be upset, of when Bellatrix caught and tortured me at…"

"My home," he finished on a breath. Sighing heavily, he turned his eyes away as guilt turned his stomach and twisted his heart. He hadn't been able to do anything; he had been so terrified at the time, still so young and so naïve about life, even after seeing so much death and destruction. Although he had been, technically, a member of the Order at the time, he had still lacked the courage the others possessed back then. It had been after the situation at his home that he had found the courage and strength to work harder, to push back his fears and fight harder at bringing down Voldemort. Hermione and her courage, the way she took one blow after another without hesitation, without mumbling a single truth, had reminded him to just how cowardly he was.

Now, the memories twisted his body in guilt at the reminder that he had been unable to do anything to stop it.

"I…Hermione, I'm…"

She shook her head, silently cutting him off as her hands squeezed his face. "It's not your fault," she murmured. "You did what you had to do; you couldn't do anything more to help me."

Lifting a hand, he rubbed his face, pushing away her touch. "I know," he groaned into his palm, "but…I'm still so sorry that you had to go through all of that. I really wanted to stop it, I really did."

Hesitating, she slowly reached out to him to hold his arm, squeezing the limb gently in a soothing touch. "I know, Draco, I know. But, the memories will go away soon enough and I'll be fine again." Pulling him close, she pushed his hand aside and tucked her body against his chest, willing him to close his arms around her in a loving embrace. "I don't blame you, please believe me."

Nodding against her head, her hair tickling his chin, he wrapped his arms tightly around her. "Thank you."

"Besides," she added, voice muffled against his chest, "every night I sleep in your arms, you chase away those nightmares and give me sweet dreams."

His cheeks mottled faintly with embarrassment and he burrowed his head against her hair, kissing the top of her head. "I love you," he murmured.

"I love you too."

Together, they held each other in their arms, willing to push away the nightmares of the past and fighting to establish a brighter, brilliant future that would overpower the darkness behind them. Their heart beats met, soft, rhythmic sounds barely noticeable as a sea of students swarmed around them, rushing to get to class. In this sea of bodies, surrounded by the greater world threatening to break in and tear them apart, they held fast, withdrawn into their own beautiful world.

* * *

**So, I hope you guys enjoyed it. I will work hard on the next chapter. Now, I just want to make it clear that I don't want to focus too much on the Graduates' Ball. I find a lot of fics focus too much on that, and now that Hermione and Draco are 'out of the closet' so to speak, there won't be too much focus on it.**

**The story is almost over guys. It's actually really sad…**

**I may not be able to update right away after this, but I will do my best while studying for my finals. **

**Please feel free to give me critical criticism or just a loving, adoring review if you want. You can also scold me for taking so damn long to update. I deserve it, haha. **

**Thanks for reading!**


	23. Under the Willow Tree

**Hey everyone. Firstly, small apologies for taking a little while. I'm currently trying to study for exams, but failing miserably because that's when I keep getting ideas for writing. I guess I should do exams more often, as it might help me update faster.**

**Anyway, earlier I went back through the fic and created a timeline for myself so I can figure out where the hell I am time-wise. At the end of last chapter, I deduced that we were on Friday, April 17****th****, 2009. Just to clarify for anyone who was curious. So, this would be the following Monday (Monday, April 20****th****, 2009) and ending on Friday, April 24th, 2009. **

**I also only recently learned of the 2-week break for Easter holidays at Hogwarts. I guess we could assume it took place during the healing period for Hermione, or we can just ignore it (as I don't really remember it ever being mentioned in the books at all). So, you can choose for yourself.**

**Enjoy the chapter!**

**Chapter 23**

**Under the Willow Tree**

It was dark. Very dark. Small eyes peered through the darkness, small hands reaching out to feel the familiar surroundings without hesitation, and small feet moved forward on the soft, carpeted floor.

In such times, such darkness would be heavy, thick, and overwhelmingly silent, like the finals moments one experiences just as they fall into sweet, dream-filled oblivion.

But something disturbed the silence, a keening, wailing sound that echoed throughout the silent home, bouncing off of the walls to penetrate the ears of those nearby.

It was that sound that woke them, the wailing that rarely stopped, broken by periods of softer, quieter sounds that screamed for discovery. It pricked at one's curiosity, tugged the small figure out of bed and had the small feet padding down the hallway.

At the top of the stairs the screaming got louder, echoing cries broken by shuddering, begging sobs. Very few words were discernible, but all the ears could hear was a begging "please" coughed out every now and then.

A foot stepped onto the stairs, silently sliding onto the smooth, marble surface, and the person was grateful that marble did not creak or groan when weighed down. A second foot slid down, landing gracefully on the stair, and, like a dancer moving across a stage, the feet gliding their way down the stairs.

There was a light nearby, illuminating the darkened hallway leading to the back of the home. The living area to the left was creepy, for there was no other word for it. Paintings watched the figure move, pale eyes shifting in the light, glowing in an unearthly fashion against the pale moonlight streaming through the windows. Couches, a marble fireplace, an untouched piano, and other miscellaneous decorative items stood out in the room like silent sentinels, watching the figure move towards the room at the end of the hall.

"Please, please…I just…I just wanted to make it a surprise."

Muffled speech, a man's voice, deep and powerful although no ear could hear the words. It was a voice that beckoned others to follow, that compelled the weak, and strong, to listen to every word and obey every order. It was a commanding voice, even at its softest, and right now, it was directed to the sobbing creature at the end of the hall.

"I just…I just wanted to make something…please, I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

"Learn to obey…not appropriate…forbidden," were the words the figure could make out as they neared the door. Little ribbons of light slid down the hall, bright, painted streaks that stood out starkly against the surrounding darkness.

The man's voice was always so commanding, so fierce, and it made the person hesitate, one foot lifted halfway through the next step. The voice was bothersome, it was a pain and it symbolized pain.

The ears twitched at the sound of a loud smack, followed by a sudden crash. Small feet hesitated before taking several quiet but rushed steps back. Years of sneaking had taught the feet to be silent, to know just how and where to land on the floor so they made the littlest noise possible.

The sobbing started again, the mumbled apologies broken only by deep, angry curses spoken by the male voice. It took a moment for the figure to gather enough courage, just enough time to take in one deep breath before the plunge.

Blinding.

The light was blinding against the darkness, turning everything into a gray, dull fog that slowly grew more detailed with every passing second. Eyes adjusted to the sudden change, in just enough time to hear the next words.

"Crucio."

The keening wail turned into a high scream of pain as a body fell to the ground and writhed on the marble kitchen floor. Grey eyes adjusted to the darkness and watched as blonde hair covered the floor in wave after wave. Pale, blue eyes opened, rolling with pain, and the soft, ruby lips shook with each cry.

The woman sobbed once the spell was lifted, fighting back tears of anguish and pain. Over her stood a dark man, an evil man, shrouded in a blanket of the thickest, cruelest fog. The only part that stood out on his dark garb was a shining, long halo of brilliantly white hair.

The blue eyes darted around the kitchen, desolate and immaculately clean save for a metal pan lying on the ground, melting and squished unbaked cinnamon buns slowly caking to the floor.

A soft gasp brought the eyes to the woman as recognition and horror filled her face. Slowly, she reached out with a trembling hand, begging the young child to leave the room.

The dark man gave a leer at the sight and turned to the child. "Watch. This will be a right lesson for both of you, watch what happens when women don't obey the rules."

Shock filled the child as the sight before slowly sunk in. This was something new, something that wasn't right, that shouldn't be right. Why was she lying on the ground, crying? Why was her mouth bleeding and her dress, her beautiful, silken, white dress, ripped? Why were handfuls of her hair littering the ground, like glittering crystals against the floor? What happened? What was going on?

What was he doing to her?

It wasn't right…it wasn't right.

He lifted his wand, movement fluid and still, like shimmering steel, and his lips slowly moved to push out the words, "Crucio."

It wasn't right!

Two screams joined in the air, one of immeasurable physical pain as the woman contorted in torture. The other was that of a young boy's, screaming for his father to stop hurting his mum, who he loved so dear.

"Stop!"

* * *

He woke with a sweat, eyes wide and alert in the surrounding darkness of their bedroom. A hand was reaching out, wand held tightly by shaking fingers and a sweaty palm. His body shook involuntarily and the mere act of sitting up felt painfully stiff and difficult. His eyes darted throughout the dimly lit room, trying to find some sign of intrusion, some shadow that screamed enemy. Slowly, once the room had been examined, he lowered his arm and let his wand fall on the sheets beside him. Breathing heavily, he lifted a shaking hand and pressed it to his face, trying to wipe away as much sweat as possible.

Draco bit back a groan of frustration, digging his fingers into his temples as he fought to regulate his breathing and stop the shaking before it woke the sleeping form of Hermione beside him. He was glad that she was at least not facing him, having turned her back to him at some point, yet still keeping her leg twined around his. Awkward, yet comfortable, and the mere thought of her bare leg on his helped steady his heartbeat.

Squeezing his eyes, he pushed away droplets of sweat on his brow before opening them, looking down at his lap. Lowering his hand, he let both fall into his lap, fingers trembling uncontrollably against the sheets. The sight made his stomach turn with irritation and anxiety.

Fuck, he thought he was finally past this. He thought that he had finally begun to push away from the memories and had begun to dream and sleep better. For so long, ever since Hermione had begun slipping into bed with him at night, he had experienced either a dreamless sleep or a night filled with blissful visions. Not these dark, cruel memories that made his stomach churn and heart ache.

He knew without even trying that he was not going to be able to fall back asleep. It was probably somewhere near four in the morning; the sun would be rising soon enough and, in a few more hours they would have to be up and getting ready for the day's classes. It was going to be rough, but he knew that sleep would elude him.

He was afraid of going back in time again and remembering all of the darkness.

Quietly, with practiced skill from numerous one-night stands, he slid out of the bed, fighting back the uncontrollable shaking, and adjusted the sheets so Hermione wouldn't be cold. Moving across the room, he grabbed his fluffy bathrobe on his way and stepped out of the bedroom, easing the door closed to remain as quiet as possible.

Once he was sitting in the Common Room, fire blazing at the command of his wand, a cup of warm cocoa nestled between his hands, he finally allowed his body to relax. His back ached from the tension, chest aching from the panting, and his eyes felt tight and stun with lack of sleep. Yet, he kept sipping at the cocoa, hoping the warm heat would spread through his body and wake him up.

Curling up on the couch, toes just hanging off the edge, he hugged his body to keep the warmth wrapped tightly within the cocoon of his bathrobe. The sweat had cooled on his skin, creating a blanket of cold that struck him to the bone. The trembling returned with a vengeance, causing his stomach to twist uncomfortably and he suddenly feared that he might throw up.

He needed to do something, to get out, get active, to let his mind move away from the dream and back to reality.

Glancing towards the window, his eyes widened at the distant sight of the tall hoops, seemingly hovering in the air, and he had an idea. Quidditch practice, he would go out, work out and practice so much he'd be exhausted. Then, he would be too tired and sore to think about anything else. It might not solve the problem, but at least it would provide some temporary relief.

His body randomly convulsed again, little shudders running through his muscles and nerves, and he huddled closer under the blanket, deciding to finish his cocoa before trekking out onto the dewy grounds to the pitch. It would at least wake him up a bit more.

Taking a deep sip, he let out a sigh and clenched the mug tighter in growing frustration.

"I thought I was past all of this," he breathed out, head falling back as he closed his eyes. "I thought it was all gone, that I could forget everything."

But, Draco reminded himself as he remained on the couch, one could only run so much from the past before it caught up.

* * *

Hermione Granger was growing increasingly frustrated as the day went on. First, she woke up to a cold and slightly damp bed at six in the morning. Immediately, she wondered if Draco had had an 'accident' and was too scared to admit it, then she remembered that he was a grown man and would probably never have such an 'accident' unless he got far too drunk to control his bodily functions.

This brief deduction lead to another thought, which was that something had happened and caused him to leave the bed at some point in time during the night. She had intended to find him in the Common Room and talk to him about it, yet she had found it abandoned, a clean mug sitting on the counter and the fire dying away to glowing embers.

She then assumed that she would see him at breakfast, yet the only sight she caught of him was when he was crossing the Great Hall, clad in Quidditch practice gear, a layer of mud, and another layer of sweat. She _had_ tried to make her way to him, but several Prefects had stopped her to ask question about that night's meeting concerning the Graduate's Ball, which lead to his inevitable escape.

Then there was class, where he seemed far more studious than usual, yet still greeted her with warm kisses and hugs, almost as though he hadn't left her alone in bed sometime before 6 a.m.

Lunch came, and her schedule had been kind enough to give her a class separate from Draco, so by the time she got to the Great Hall for lunch, he was nowhere to be seen and not a single student she had barked at had seen him.

So the bastard ferret had eluded her all day long and it was growing increasingly frustrating.

This meant that by the time she had successfully cornered him after supper, she was fuming, stomping, and damn near shouting at him for his evasiveness.

"Draco, where did you go this morning?" It had taken much of her willpower to grit out the words rather than shout them out. She knew she shouldn't have been so frustrated, but she also knew that he had been purposefully avoiding her, and it was, for lack of a better word, frustrating.

"This morning?" He gave her a wide-eyed look of confusion that nearly had her convinced, if she hadn't seen that look used multiple times before on teachers when he wanted to worm his way out of trouble. "What happened this morning, love?"

Fighting the urge to pinch him on the chin, hard enough that it would leave an unflattering bruise, she instead crossed her arms and tilted one hip. "This morning, love, you left me all alone in a cold and empty bed, without any note."

"Is that what you're really mad about?" His expression was schooled, practiced, and she knew that he was hiding something. She just wasn't sure what, and it bothered her to no end.

Draco, on the other hand, was fighting every urge to run at the sight of determination in her eyes. He knew that look, understood it very well, and he knew that she would not give up until he had given her an adequate answer. He just wasn't sure what kind of answer to give her. He didn't want to talk about the dream just yet, it still felt too raw, too real and exposed, and he was afraid that by merely discussing it, the dream would come back again tonight and sleep would once more elude him.

He wanted to only go through one day of casting glamour spells to hide the dark circles under his eyes; he didn't want to worry about it again all day tomorrow.

He also didn't want her worrying about it, although he was doing a fine job at making her worry already. Her bottom lip was sore and swollen, as if she had been chewing on it all day, and it was something she only did when anxious. It made his heart fall in guilt and he let out a soft sigh of exasperation.

"Hermione, love," he began, trying to find some excuse that would ease her worries and not let him have to think about the dark memories, "I woke up because the match for the Quidditch Cup is coming up soon and I wanted to get extra practice in before classes. I'm sorry I didn't leave you a note; I thought it wouldn't bother you. I'll make sure to leave one next time."

Her face twisted in conflicting thoughts for a brief moment as she thought over his words. It was true, the Cup was coming up in a couple of weeks, roughly the second week of May, and he was probably worried about whether or not they would be able to pull off another victory against Gryffindor. It made perfect sense; he was a perfectionist, striving to be better and do better, and, for once, he actually had this hope that Slytherin could win the Quidditch Cup. It would be nice…

Although it was still frustrating that he hadn't bothered to leave her a note. But then again, she was probably overreacting; stress, lack of sleep, and PMS had a tendency to make her do that.

Letting out a soft breath, she closed her eyes and nodded. "I'm sorry, Draco," she admitted. "I think I was just overreacting, I'm just a bit…tired. And with everything that's been going on lately, I'm just more prone to jumping at the littlest things." Turning away, she rubbed her face with her hand and inhaled. "I'm sorry; a note is more than enough. Just as long as you let me know that you're okay. I just don't like waking up not…knowing."

It took a moment for his mind to process her words, but slowly and surely his sleep-deprived mind came to a haunting conclusion. The war had taken its toll on thousands of people, bringing with the battles and death unforgettable pain and nightmares. It would be normal or her to have experienced nightmarish situations, just as he had. He could only imagine what instigated these thoughts and concerns, perhaps it was waking up in an unknown place, bloodied and battered, or maybe it was waking up to find the body of a friend or family member, who couldn't take the pains and anguish of the war. Maybe it had been waking up alone in a home, terrified and not knowing who would not be returning later that day.

All of those thoughts, all of those experiences, could become fuel for her anxieties. It was at that moment that he felt guilty for his actions, unaware that he had been causing her stress and fear, all in his need to deal with his own problems by himself.

He lowered his head, watching the emotions play across her face as she schooled her eyes to remain focused on the task at hand, rather than the memories that brought the anxieties to the surface. Exhaling softly, he lifted his hands to cup her cheeks, thumbs gently rubbing on the smooth flesh. His head tilted, forehead pressing against hers, and he placed a chaste kiss to her lips.

"I'm sorry love," he said, watching as momentary confusion played with her features. "I promise I'll leave you a note next time, so you don't have to worry."

Smiling gently at him, she reached up and grasped his hands in hers, squeezing his fingers. "Thank you."

She ended their discussion with a tender kiss, glad that he had been able to understand her thoughts without needing to ask any question. It created this tight bond between them, like a rope was wrapped tightly around them, keeping them physically and mentally close. It made her body feel warm and fuzzy, a feeling of comfort strongly wrapped around her that made her feel at home.

Like always, it felt perfect.

* * *

Night was always a time that a new world came to life as the daylight world went to bed. When the daytime creatures shut their eyes and minds against the barrier of darkness, the unique creatures of darkness slithered out and roamed the world under a blanket of stars. It had been a realm of mysticism and curiosity, something that compelled and captivated him. Often times, he found himself wandering the woods or streets alone at night, willing the creatures to come out and communicate with him.

Now, night was an entirely different world. The luscious, unique, and beautiful creatures turn into serpentine, malevolent spirits with red eyes and dark thoughts. Their movements, once gracefully elegant, became twisting, smooth, sneaky and slithering steps, quiet and shadowy. What he used to imagine as fairies hiding in the shadows of the forest, he now realized that those fairies were full grown men turned into monsters, and the magic used to bring the forest to life had turned into dark magic of pain and death.

He no longer left his home at night, forever avoided leaving all of the lights off, and forever kept his windows and doors locked, just in case the monster of darkness dared sneak up on him and take his life.

Night was a time to be feared; one never knew what malevolent creature was lurking beyond the shadows.

He wondered, briefly, if she had thought of this. If that this fear was the reason why all of the lights in her home had been on when they came for her. This fear was what explained the amount of traps she had placed in her yard, the numerous, magical attempts to protect herself from the darkness.

Yet, it was all for naught. They had broken into her brightly lit home, avoiding injury and attack, and had quickly taken care of her dog with a fast Killing Curse. They had subdued and bound her, gagged and abused her, and now she was there, hanging upside down on the table, surrounded by those dark creatures in that dimly lit room.

For the time being, he was glad that she was blindfolded; she wouldn't be able to see him, to tell who he was, and she would not have to die with the knowledge that _he_ had been part of this, not that any of it had been willing. He had tried to avoid partaking in it, had argued and begged, had tried to use charm and rhetoric, attempting to weasel his way out of the attack in any way possible.

But, when the Dark Lord wanted something, you had to do it, regardless of your situation.

Besides, he had had no choice; he needed to do it, or else there would be no healing from the consequences.

Death was an unbreakable disease that either came too quickly or too slowly, and it was unbearably permanent.

His heart ached in his chest as he stared at her limp body, trying his hardest to tune out the hissing of the heavy snake draped across the table, ignoring the voices of the wizards and witches around him garbed in black and plagued by the need for deceit, death, and destruction. His mother sat on his side, a beacon of silvery, beautiful light in the room of darkness. Regardless of how much she hurt, no matter how many times she was savagely abused, she stood still, proud, and beautiful among these ugly masses of cruelty.

He kept ignoring them, watching as the blindfolded women rotated slowly, hair dangling gingerly just above the table. He wouldn't let it touch the table, Merlin forbid the smallest part of the Muggle lover touch a piece of Pureblood property.

Even the chains they used in the dungeon had been destroyed after she'd been unshackled and brought up to become an item to display.

She was like a clock, slowly rotating in a clockwise fashion, as though ticking off each passing second with every movement. It was unchanging, repetitive and haunting.

His stomach fell with the blindfold, face fighting hard not to twist in fear as recognition slid across her wakening face. He suddenly felt sick, fighting the urge to vomit, and he found his nails digging deeply into the wood of his chair, trying to break through and stab into the flesh of his palms.

While he had never been a student of hers at Hogwarts, Charity Burbage recognized Draco Malfoy just as he recognized her. It was when their eyes locked that Voldemort called for dinner and green consumed her body. His stomach fell as she slammed onto the table, and he jumped slightly in his seat, trying to keep a grip on his emotions and reality. Letting out a quiet, shuddering breath, his gaze locked with her dead one as the snake slithered forward and consumed the woman's dead body.

* * *

This time, when he woke, his stomach revolted. He had somehow managed to quietly rush out of the bed, cast a quick silencing charm, and make it to the toilet just in time to lose all food in his system. The tiles were scathingly cold, burning against his heated, sweaty flesh, and they provided a grounding sensation, beckoning and pulling him back to reality and out of his nightmarish past. As he pressed his head to the edge, dimly, at the back of his mind he was grateful for the automatic cleaning charm on the toilet, which cleaned it after every use.

He closed his eyes, fighting back another, weaker, onslaught of nausea that threatened to shake his system. Letting out a trembling breath, he waited a good fifteen minutes before acknowledging that he was no longer going to be sick and that he could finally move.

His limbs were numbed, little, prickling sensations fluttering throughout each body part as he struggled to get to his feet. He suddenly felt awkward, standing naked and sweaty in the cold bathroom, flushing down the remains of his supper. Suddenly, as he washed his hands, it was as thought the awkward realization brought physical reality crashing down on him. Without warning, he began to shiver uncontrollably, not due to shock or fear, but due to the sheer frigidity of the room. His wet skin soaked in the cold air and froze him to the bone.

A gentle knock broke through the silence, like a whip cracking through the air, and his head turned sharply at the sound.

"Draco?"

Suddenly, he found himself feeling soothing warm enveloping his body, as though the very sound of her voice grounded and warmed him. He loved the sound of her voice when she was half-asleep, this groggy, sweet slurring tone that made him think of gentle dreams and marshmallow pillows.

"Are you almost done? I have to use the loo."

He lowered the silencing charm and answered back, making great show of flushing the toilet a second time. Quickly, he washed his face and hands, brushing his teeth, and let the love of his life take over the bathroom from him. Then, climbing back into bed, he waited patiently for her to finish up.

The second she crawled back between the sheets, shivering from the cold, he found himself overwhelmed with the irresistible urge to hold her tightly in his arms. She rolled over, pressing a kiss on his neck before burrowing her face in his chest as sleep took over her. For the first time in his entire life, he managed to close his eyes and fall into a world of sweet dreams after the nightmares.

* * *

"You know, he really pisses me off sometimes."

Feet marched loudly on the floor, slapping mercilessly against the tiles as two bodies moved across the Great Hall, one taut with frustration, the other leading the way.

"I mean, that's all I asked for. It wasn't that much was it? Just a bleedin' note, that's all I wanted. And, I gave him all week; I didn't bother him once about it! Not once! And what does he do? Not give a damn about what I said. Like he didn't even listen to me at all."

Hermione Granger was, yet again, frustrated with a certain blond-haired man in her life. It was now Friday, and every day this week, except for Tuesday, she had awoken to a cold and empty bed, without a single indication of where and why Draco had left her alone. All she had asked for was a note; it wasn't that hard. Just leave a simple note, indicating where he was going, and that was it.

Of course, he had decided to ignore her request and just disappear, and then avoid her for the first part of each day. Except for today; he had actually skipped all of his classes, leaving her to deal with the Professors. She had, of course, lied and said that he was cooped up with a stomach bug, which meant that she _had_ to go to the Hospital Wing and get Gastrointestinal healing potions from Madame Pomfrey, which she had been entirely against. What if those had been the last in Madame Pomfrey's stock, and then some poor student actually afflicted with the stomach flu showed up and could receive nothing to help? It bothered her to no end, so she had dumped the potions on Draco's bed, resisting the urge to pour them over his favourite pillow.

That was not even the worst part of her day; the most annoying had been when she initially woke up. First, there was a great sense of loneliness; the bed always felt so massive and cold whenever she was alone in it. Then, there was minor frustration, when she realized that she had no idea where he went. But, almost immediately after came the anxieties as memories were brought to the surface. She remember those mornings during the war, remembered the anguish of discovery, the despair of realization, and this morning, she had been forced to sit down for several minutes and fight an anxiety attack. She hated this, hated no knowing, hated it when those memories rose up, and almost despised the feeling that she could not do anything about it.

So, it was without a doubt that, by the end of the day, she was short tempered and ready to snap.

"Does he not realize just how frustrating this is? Such a pain in the arse. You understand, don't you?"

Regardless of Hermione's feelings at the moment, there was a sudden awkward pause as she turned to her companion. Both paused halfway across the lawn outside the school towards the lake. She felt a blush suddenly creep across her cheeks as she realized just how much she had been venting and to whom.

Millicent Bulstrode had gone through remarkable transformations throughout the past years. While still stocky in build, she had developed subtle, feminine curves that made her more delicate in appearance. But, her personality was still similar to that of a man's and many students had wondered if her relationship to Elsa Mirren, from Hufflepuff, was more than just friendly.

But, the one thing that stood out about Millicent was her never-ending silence, even when situations grew awkwardly uncomfortable.

"Ah, I…I'm sorry about this," Hermione fumbled, feeling uncomfortable under the unblinking gaze of Millicent. "I didn't mean to…well, you know, it's normal when people get frustrated."

The Slytherin girl who had spoken up when Hermione asked earlier about Draco's location, merely shrugged her shoulders. She had never been one to dwell on unnecessary things. "It's okay, it happens." She then turned to point towards a tall willow tree near the lake, so close and so large that the leaves dipped gently onto the surface of the water. "He usually goes over there to hide out."

"Oh, thank you." Hermione felt the blush recede, glad that Millicent hadn't made the situation more awkward than necessary. Thanking the Slytherin girl another time, she moved towards the tree, trying to lessen the frustration bubbling inside of her. She wanted to snap at him, but she knew that it was the wrong way to deal with this situation. It would only aggravate things and possibly end in a massive row between her and Draco.

She found him sitting against the trunk of the tree, basking in the shadows of the leaves. He looked peaceful sitting there, with his eyes shut against the sun and a gentle breeze sending tendrils of his hair across his face. It was soothing, and it felt almost painful to interrupt him, but as she moved closer, the shadows she saw in his face were not shadows from the tree. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, heavy and telling, and his usual pale complexion had developed a gaunt pallor to it, almost sickly in appearance.

It made her stomach twist uncomfortably and her frustration suddenly faded as guilt breached her walls. There was clearly more to this than she originally thought; it was possible that he wasn't just leaving early in the morning for Quidditch practice; something was forcing him to get up and leave early.

Bending under the leaves, she quietly moved over to sit down beside him, the bark of the trunk rough and bumpy against her back. It created a combination of feelings, massaging and itchy. Sighing softly, she reached over and pressed a hand against his knee.

His eyes flung open and his body jolted, stiff and alert as the touch broke him from his reveries. When she squeezed his knee, alerting him that she was here to soothe rather than harm, his body visibly relaxed and his eyes drooped just the slightest bit.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?"

"Believe it or not, Millicent Bulstrode told me you hide out here when you need to be alone," she answered.

He nodded in acknowledgement before turning his gaze away from hers, resting his head on the trunk and focusing his attention to the cool, shimmering lake.

"Draco," she said softly, breaking the sudden silence, "I need to talk to you."

Alert slipped its way back into his eyes and he gave her a quick look, calculating whether or not this discussion would have a positive or negative ending. She looked anxious, worried lines engraved in her usually smooth and relaxed face. She wasn't biting her lip just yet, but he saw the way her jaw moved, saw the faint indentation that let him know she had been worriedly gnawing on it for hours.

His heart fell and he feared what might come out of her mouth, but he wasn't a Malfoy for nothing. They stood up strong in these situations; they didn't cower in fear or try to avoid the inevitable. They met it with welcoming, strong arms and embraced it, then they would manipulate and alter it so that, in the end, the result was to their advantage.

His nod beckoned her to continue, but he turned his eyes back to the lake, as though willing what was to come, to come.

"You've been leaving very early in the mornings without letting me know where you're going," she began. So this was what she wanted to talk about, his lack of leaving notes. He honestly understood her reasoning for wanting notes, but it was something easily forgettable considering the circumstances. It irked him.

"I'm not here to bother you about the notes," she continued. She always seemed to know him, to read his mind and understand every word that flit across his thoughts. It was strange yet comforting. He still wasn't sure how much he liked it. "I want to let you know that I'm here to talk and listen." This made his head turn, twisting to give her a quick glance of perplexity. She wanted to talk about talking?

"Draco," she sighed, "a few weeks ago, I told you some things about myself, told you worries that I have. I want you to know that it also goes the other way around. I know that you're always here to listen to me when I have a problem, that you'll always be here to hold me when I'm upset, and I want you to know that I'm here to help you just like you help me." She reached over and cupped a cheek, her expression softening with her voice. "I love you, you know that, right?"

He slowly nodded, drinking in her every word. It made his heart sing and sob at the same time. He had always had Blaise as a friend, someone he could rely on and talk to, but there were some things he could never discuss with his friend, things buried deep within his heart that he never found anyone worthy of mentioning them to. They were the memories that made his heart hurt, the reminders that wrenched at his stomach, and the thoughts that made his brain dark with pain. To hear her words, to have her say that she would always be there for him, it made him want to cry with relief, because never before had anyone ever uttered those words to him.

"I do," he answered quietly, drinking her face with his eyes. "I love you too."

"Good." She nodded, and her gaze grew firmer. "Then I want you to know something very important. What you're doing, keeping whatever it is that's bothering you inside, isn't good. You need to talk about these things, you need to discuss them and me know when these things are bothering you. A few weeks ago, I told you about my nightmares," she moved to face him, "today, I want you to tell me about yours. Besides, it's only fair," she added with a smile, "like an 'I show you mine, you show me yours,' thing."

He suddenly let out a breath, as though every ounce of pain in his body became exhaled on that one string of air, and his body bent forward, as though the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders and he felt free to move. She let him breathe, watched as he took delight in her words, and she kept her hands on his knees, running her fingers over them in soothing circles.

"You do realize that I've never done something like this before," he said, lifting his head to look at her.

"That's fine."

"And you do know that the things I might say…they're dark."

"I understand."

"And…bugger, I hate to admit this…you know that it might…make…you cry, right?"

"You might cry, yes, I know that," she answered with a broader smile. You could take the Malfoy out of the Manor, but you could never take the Malfoy out of Draco. It was completely inert.

"Malfoys don't cry," he muttered, causing her to pinch his knee. Taking in a breath, he closed his eyes, as though willing himself to gather enough strength to go through the next actions. After several minutes of silence, he leaned back and opened his eyes, staring straight into her soul. "I've been having…nightmares. No, that's not the right word. It's more like…memories."

She nodded for him to go on, shifting closer to that she could feel his heat radiating off of his body and onto hers.

"It started probably after you," guilt ripped at him and he lowered his gaze, "told me about yours." She increased the pressure on his knees, silently telling him that she did not blame herself. It was a normal reaction, a person is reminded of a harsh time, and memories from that period will come back with greater ease.

He nodded, understanding the signal, and continued, "They started on Monday. They're all from, well, bad parts of my life, mostly of the war and," he swallowed, "my family. My father was never a very loving man; he often resorted to violence and mental abuse when things didn't go his way. This happened a lot with my mum. I remember one time, when I was a kid. It was my birthday, and I woke up in the middle of night because of weird sounds. I investigated and found my father performing the Cruciatus Curse on my mum in the kitchen." He let out a shaky breath as memories from that moment filled his mind, the screams of his mother echoing loudly in the back of his head. It was only her touch, that gentle, soothing grip Hermione had on his knees, that pulled him away from the past. "Turns out, she wanted to make me cinnamon buns for breakfast, to surprise me. He said that, as a Malfoy, she was not to be seen doing Muggle and slave tasks in the kitchen, and apparently it wasn't the first time. It seemed she 'pushed his buttons' and he thought she deserved to be punished in such a manner."

Hermione slowly nodded, still rubbing his knees. Her heart fell at the image of the memory, for a young child, on his birthday, to discover his father abusing his mother. It just wasn't right. "That's why," she began slowly; "you didn't like the idea of me baking at Christmas."

"Yeah," he admitted, keeping his eyes focused on his knees. "It…brought back bad memories and…"

"Frightened you," she finished. Suddenly, she felt a tingling sensation biting at the back of her eyes as tears threatened to well up. Her heart had fallen, aching and twisted, as she realized that, beyond this story, there were so many more like it in his past. He was a child without love, living in a childhood without compassion, and that he had managed to successfully push all of that away to become the loving, loyalty, and beautiful man he was now man pride well up in her chest.

"He did that a lot," he continued, "attacked my mum. It seems like he treated her like a punching bag; whenever he got angry, if she was there, she took all of the force of it. If she wasn't, it was the House Elves."

"Did he ever…?"

"No, he never touched me." He let out a choked, barking laugh at the thought, sardonic and dark. "I guess he thought that I was too good to be hit, that real Malfoy men never got hit and never hit each other. No, when I got older he made me watch; told me it was a way to train me to become a better Pureblood, a better…Death Eater. It's kind of funny," he let out another laugh, "for the longest time, I thought I was so lucky that he never turned on me. Now, I wish I had stood up, even just once."

She fought so the pride stayed in place, battled so the positive emotions within her outweighed the heavy darkness, but it was easily a losing battle when she watched his mind unravel before her. Swallowing thickly, she slowly blinked, needing that moment of disconnect to recollect her thoughts.

"It's not your fault, you were just a child. You couldn't do anything about it."

"I know that," he breathed. "I don't blame myself, I can't do that, it would just eat away at me. To be honest," he leaned back, letting his head fall back against the trunk, "those memories aren't the worst."

Her heart practically disappeared; it had sunk so low, creating a heavy weight at the bottom of her stomach. She knew what he was referring to, knew that part of his memories were her own, painful recollections of a time of war, bloodshed, terror, and death. A morbidly curious part of her wondered if one of those painful memories involved her torture at his Manor. That thought was quickly suppressed as she mentally berated herself; what did it matter if those memories involved her? It didn't make them any better or worse.

He had paused, torn between self-preservation and pouring out his feelings. He knew that he needed to tell her the rest, to tell her about all of the deaths and tortures he witnessed, to tell her about the kidnappings and attacks he couldn't stop, and most of all, to tell her about what caused his mother to finally have a mental breakdown. Yet a part of him wanted to keep it all inside, ashamed of the memories, afraid of how she might react, and unwilling to spread his misery onto those he loved. He couldn't allow her to bear the burdens, yet here she sat, quiet and willing, patient and loving, listening to every word he had without judgment or blame.

He knew that he would never find a woman as wonderful and amazing as her.

"I have so many recollections from the war," he said softly, closing his eyes as a soothing breeze wafted across his face, trying to pull him into a relaxing comfort zone and ease his pain. "So many bad memories…" he then began retelling everything, every pain, every torture, every ounce of blood that dripped onto his feet, hands, and body, and every death his terror-filled eyes witnessed. He told her of when they kidnapped Charity Burbage, an event that had been his initiation. He felt tears sting behind his lids as he told her about every crunch, snap and crack he heard as Nagini ate the deceased teacher. He told about the plans to kill Dumbledore, told her how he had tried to avoid it, how he tried to do everything in his power to not be involved in it. He told her about how they forced the Dark Mark onto his skin, how it had burned and ached for weeks on end, how it made him scream and how those screams blended with those of two teenage Muggle girls as they were raped by Fenrir and his werewolves in triumph. Everything, every ounce of pain that filled his mind, he told her.

He didn't speak out of guilt, he didn't talk out of shame, he told her every little thing because he finally could. He told her it because she wanted to hear it, because she was listening, and because it made his heart lighter with every word spoken.

He didn't know when the tears first poured out, perhaps it was when he talked about tortured and murdered classmates who recognized him, or maybe it when he told her about how his mother finally snapped, raped and abused too many times for her mind to remain sane and coherent. All he knew was that, at the end of it, the tears streamed down his burning cheeks, the wind doing little in cooling his warm face. Her hands were on his face, cupping and massaging it, tenderly wiping away every tear with gentle fingers. He found his face pressed against her bosom, a soothing, maternal action that made his heart ache.

She peppered kisses on his head, waiting patiently as he cried his heart out, the tears growing stronger and more painful with each passing second until his body shook with every sob. So she sat there and held him as he cried out his memories, each nightmare sliding down his cheeks with every tear.

He didn't know how long it took, had no idea how many seconds, minutes, or hours they spent under the tree, embracing one another against the onslaught of nightmarish memories, but eventually the tears dried up and his stopped hurting so much. Slowly, he pulled away and looked up at her, surprised etched in his features at the tears quietly sliding down her soft cheeks. Something made his heart tight, a strange sensation at the sight of the woman he loved so much, crying for him, for his pain and nightmares. It made him happy, it comforted him, and it made him want to spend every second of the rest of his life in her arms.

His thumbs traced her cheeks, wiping away the tears, and they spent a moment in silence, staring at each other, baring one another's souls to the other as the sun slowly set on the horizon, bathing them in warm, pink hues.

"Two things happened during the war that makes me afraid to wake up alone," she suddenly admitted in a soft, raspy voice.

He kept his gaze focused on her, hands on her cheeks, and he leaned forward to rest his forehead on hers, patiently waiting for her to continue just as she waited on him.

"The first was Krum…during the war, we found him and got him to come and hide with us a Grimmauld Place. After a while things got…well, when you think you're going to die, you tend to cling to people close to you. We started getting together…and one morning, I woke up alone. I found him in the bathroom; he'd…" she choked on her words, closing her eyes against the memories, "he'd hung himself. Couldn't take the fear, the pressure, the not-knowing…it was just too much for him."

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her tightly against his body, needing to hold her, to keep her grounded. He felt her pain, soaked it into his body and willed it away from her soul.

"The second," she continued without hesitation, voice muffled against his shoulder as her hands clung to the back of his shirt, "was when Remus died. We woke up one morning and he had just disappeared. It turns out he had tried to go and find some werewolves to join our side, and he didn't want Tonks worrying so he didn't tell her anything. We don't know what happened, didn't hear from him or see him again until the final battle here. Tonks and Arthur found his body, tortured, practically ripped to shreds. We're sure Fenrir found him and tortured him until he died and dumped the body there as a warning. It…the look on Tonks' face, the way she just fell…it…"

"I know, love," he murmured against her hair, keeping her close and tight. "I know. If I had known he had been taken…if I had found out at all, I would've tried to help him escape."

"I know." She pressed her face against his chest, effectively dampening his shirt with her tears, but neither party cared.

The silence continued for a while, until the sun hid behind the horizon and stars began to glitter playfully in the sky. In the castle, supper would be well along its way, students chattering joyously, feasting away without a care in the world, unaware of the internal battle of the couple under the willow tree.

"I love you Hermione, so much," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her ear. "Without you…I don't think I ever would've had the strength to stand up against my father. My mum hates me for it, but she doesn't understand, she'll never understand…I had to kill him." To anyone else, it would have sounded as though he was trying to convince himself that what he spoke was the truth, but Hermione knew that he was just letting out more emotions, more memories, and removing the weight from his chest. He didn't need any convincing, he _knew_ that Lucius had to die, knew that Draco had to be the one to defeat him, and he fully acknowledged this as reality. Narcissa never would, but that didn't matter to Draco anymore. His father was dead, killed by his own son to protect the woman in Draco's arms, and he would never be able to hurt them anymore.

All Hermione could do was say, "I love you too."

When the moon rose to its full zenith, they slowly untangled themselves and made the trek back to the castle, fingers twined and hearts lighter. As they lay in each other's arms, sleep slowly washing over them, it felt as though every worry of their past, every nightmare they held within their souls, had flown away with the wind, trapped in the branches and leaves of the willow tree.

* * *

**Hey guys, so it's a nice long chapter for you. I hope that you enjoyed it, it took a while to get it right, in a way that I liked it, so I ended up re-writing a few parts, but I'm finally pleased with it. I know it was probably depressing, but I think it's about time the readers learn about certain parts of their past. I know I changed a few things around, but I like to take some creative liberties with my writing. **

**Also, I know I didn't use Italics for the dream sequences, like most people do, but I wanted to give is a real-feel to the readers, as well. Draco's remembering them as memories, not having these strange, surreal dreams. I wanted it to feel as real to the readers as it felt to Draco.  
**

**I hope you all enjoyed it. **

**Upcoming chapters: we will be looking over what's been going on with Ron, dealing with the Grad's Ball, and a potential meeting between Hermione and Narcissa, all to come in the future! **

**Happy reading everyone! **


	24. The Chiffon Body Trap

**Hey guys. So, we've been in quite a depressing tone for the past few chapters, so I'm happy to say that things will be getting brighter and only going up from here! Unfortunately, it also means that we're gradually coming to a close, which depresses me in a sense. Oh well, all things must come to an end. Luckily, it's not with this chapter!**

**Anyway, so here's a much happier, lighter chapter! Something that I think we all need.**

**Enjoy!  
(Big A/N at the bottom of the chapter, btw, with a full apology plus explanation for my lack of updating this summer! But if you don't read it, I'm very sorry for the major delay, but I can assure you that I have not and will not abandon this story!)**

**Chapter 24**

**The Chiffon Body Trap**

_Friday, May 29__th__, 2009_

It had been almost two months since the attack on Hermione and all had, seemingly, returned to some semblance of normalcy in Hogwarts. Students were currently hurrying to and fro, rushing in anxious excitement as the final exam week quickly approached and panic set in for many who realized that they had accomplished nothing all year. The library was slowly growing more and more occupied, the halls buzzing and full even at the latest curfew hours, and meals were growing shorter and the Great Hall emptier. Panic had set in and instead of frolicking on the grass by the lake, students were engrossed in thick tombs or growing blind re-reading hastily scribbled notes on parchment.

In this mass of chaotic anxiety, one girl smiled broadly and bounced about, happily skipping down the hallway to her scheduled meeting. She was a bright and free spirit, looking abnormally normal among the students mumbling to themselves while cradling aching heads or nursing frustratingly painful paper cuts.

"Luna, love, could you please stop skipping and walk?"

The woman spun around, her faraway, girlish smile forever plastered to her face, as though she held every secret to a mystical, magical world of fairies. Little bells rang as she skipped, the small copper objects attached to several long braids in her otherwise loose hair. Her eyes shimmered with love and dreams and she waited patiently for the love of her life to catch up to her.

"I'm just very excited," she said matter-of-factly, in her gentle, singsong voice. Every word and every sound spoken seemed to be part of a scale to a long, medieval song about elves and pixies, and it didn't matter what mood Blaise would be in when he heard the voice; it immediately made him smile and feel at home. "This is our last meeting before we start preparations for the Graduates' Ball in two weeks. I just cannot wait to see the final product."

By final product, Luna was referring to the magical mini-model Hermione and Draco would set up in the middle of the Prefects' Meeting room on the fourth floor. It would be a working, magical model that would show every detail and idea that the Prefects and Heads had put into the decorating and theme of the Graduates' Ball. Surprisingly enough, one of Luna's suggestions had been well-received – one that involved fairies and flowers – and they tried to incorporate those ideas in any way and form for the theme of the Ball.

"I know, my fairy, but I really don't feel like skipping right now," Blaise answered as he caught up to the Ravenclaw, fighting the urge to pull her against him and plant several kisses on her smiling face. He loved her ethereal nature, loved the way her hair always shimmered in the light, the sound of her melodic voice, and, most importantly, he loved that she had always kept the world of mystery and magic within her, when so many others had become disillusioned and 'realistic'. She really was his fairy in a world of boring, straight-laced mortals.

Hell, she was even talking about putting wings on her dress for the Ball, to which he agreed so long as they were tasteful and not obscenely big. He also had to put his foot down when she asked if they could flap and help her fly; he had said no to both.

He did love his precious Luna, but there were some things she wanted to do that, if he were seen with it in public, he would probably die from mortification. Even he had his limits, as lenient and compromising as he was. She toned down her fairy world, and he would occasionally go on creature hunts with her.

As they rounded a corner, he spied several students talking excited in a corner, standing out from the rest of the stressed population. Arching a brow, he fought back a smile as one member of the group produced a small gift for another, clearly today as the Ravenclaw's birthday. He suddenly found the wheels turning in his head and his mouth unable to stay shut as he pondered aloud; "I wonder…"

The blonde beauty, who had jovially skipped ahead again, spun around with a twinkle in her eyes. "Yes?"

"Oh, I," he began, completely at a loss as to how to continue. It wasn't often that Blaise thought out loud, so he rarely had to deal with the consequences. "I was just wondering…well, Draco's birthday is coming up; it's on June 5th."

Luna smiled broadly and waited for Blaise to catch up. While it seemed as though her excited had eased, he knew her better than that and realized that she had become so thrilled it was taking all of her willpower not to let it bubble over. He knew exactly what would happen if that occurred, and neither of them wanted a repeat performance.

"I'm curious," she said suddenly as they made their way down a staircase. He gave her a quick look, to which she answered, "Well, does Hermione know? And if she does, what will she get him as a present? I wonder if she did what I said for his Christmas present. If she didn't, then his birthday is an even better time." Her smile grew and the jubilant and mischievous glow in her eyes reminded him of the ever-scheming Dumbledore.

"What did you tell Hermione to get Draco for Christmas?" He couldn't help it; his curiosity always got the better of him. It was, after all, how he and Luna had first met.

"I told her to lie down under the Christmas, wearing _only_ ribbons, of course, and that _she_ should be his present. Isn't that the most wonderful gift?"

Blaise choked back a cough and fought the sudden mental image of Draco finding a naked Hermione under the Christmas tree. It was something he did _not_ want in his mind. "Well…given that it's too late for a Christmas tree, don't you think she might want to give him something more…suitable?" Although, he had to admit, hot, crazy sex should always be on the agenda for birthdays. It had certainly been on his and Luna had, like always, been more than willing to comply.

"I see," she answered, pinching her chin between her index finger and thumb as she concentrated on possible and useful presents. "She could buy him a longer arm."

Blaise was confused for a brief moment before he realized she was referring to the final Quidditch match two weeks ago. With Slytherin and Gryffindor ending the season in a tie, the winner had had to be decided in one big epic match not seen since their second year, although that had been different circumstances. This resulted in one big match a couple weeks ago. Needless to say, without a proper Keeper, the Gryffindor team had been slaughtered with regards to points scored by Quaffle-related goals. However, Harry had managed to catch the Snitch just milliseconds before Draco, on the mere basis that his arm was maybe an inch longer. Slytherin, however, had won based on overall points, but Draco had been quite miffed at losing to Potter, although he still rubbed the win in Potter's face at every chance he got.

While Blaise knew that Luna's gift could be deemed practical, he also knew that it would definitely be an unwanted reminder for Draco. "Luna, love, I don't really think that's a good idea. How about," he moved closer and draped his arm over her shoulders when he knew they were alone – they both preferred to keep their relationship private – and pressed a kiss to her temple, "you discuss it with Hermione after the meeting? I'm sure she knows exactly what to get Draco for his birthday."

Luna sent him a brilliant smile, one only ever reserved for him. It wasn't masked by her fairy world or thoughts of magical creatures; it was a pure, love-filled smile that exposed every corner of her heart and soul. "Very well, but I still she should just get naked and possibly climb into a box and surprise him."

"I'm not taking any credit for this," he replied as they arrived in front of the Prefects and Heads' meeting room. They were about twenty minutes early, but he always liked being early. It meant he could chat with Draco for a bit before the meeting started.

"Oh well," Luna sighed, reaching out and opening the door.

What they found on the other side was rather unexpected. Blaise's eyes were first drawn to the pale arse gloriously exposed due to the pants lying around the individual's ankles. Luna was momentarily confused by a pair of legs extended into the air, some emerald and very lacy underwear hanging loosely from an ankle. What hit them next was the sound; sweaty skin slapping against sweaty skin, following by ragged pants and semi-muffled screams.

"You like it rough like that, eh?"

"Oh myyy," Luna breathed out, eyes wide with embarrassment and confusion.

"Kill me now," Blaise grumbled, wrapping his hand over Luna's eyes he gently pulled her back from the doorway. Quickly and quietly, he shut the door and leaned against it for support.

"It looks like Hermione is already giving Draco his birthday present," Luna said with a grin.

"Just…don't remind me of anything we just saw," Blaise said as his stomach lurched. Honestly, how could the two of them had been so careless? Clearly, they had put a Silencing spell on the room, given that it had grown quite loud when they entered, and outside they heard nothing. But, to forget to lock the door? A very immature mistake that was having dire consequences for Blaise.

"What should we do?" he muttered, leaning against the wall and pressing his palm to his eyes. "Should we just knock and let them know we're waiting? Should we just let them know that we know? Ah, bugger, I thought I'd never have to experience a situation like this."

Luna giggled as she watched Blaise react to the situation. It was always entertaining to watch Blaise when he was embarrassed, it flustered his mind and made it hard for him to think coherently. She loved it when he lost the cool, calm and intelligent aspect of his personality and became the adorable, bumbling goofball she'd fallen in love with.

"Why don't we just let them finish," she answered with a smile. Her face glowed, as though the situation they had just seen had made her happier than a kid in a candy store.

"And pretend this never happened," he ended with a groan, trying his hardest to push the recent image out of his mind. He was quite certain he would never get the image of Draco's bright, white arse out of his mind. Sure, they were men, and he had occasionally been involved in Quidditch practices when they needed the help, and of course they _had_ changed in the same room together before, but that fraternal style nudity was quite different from what had just blinded him.

They waited outside for a good ten minutes, Luna bounding around like an excited puppy, while Blaise tried his hardest to _scourgify_ his defiled mind. Just as he was rid of the mental images, the door to the classroom opened and Draco stuck his head out, smirking like an overly pleased Cheshire cat.

"You enjoy the show?"

"Fuck off."

"It appears as though they're done, we can go in now," Luna sang, happily skipping forward and into the meeting room.

The blond didn't even react to Luna's actions; having spent – _wasted_ – so much time with the blonde girl had caused him to develop the Luna Effect, which meant that he was now relatively unfazed by her curious and odd actions. His only fear was that her personality may gradually spread and latch onto him, turning him into a Luna Zombie, threatening to turn the whole world into skipping, strange blondes that believed wholeheartedly in Muddknobbers and strange creatures of the like.

He focused his attention on Blaise, his smirk following the dark-haired man into the room. He knew that he should have been embarrassed, but having to share dorms for the majority of their Hogwarts life had left him relatively unabashed in these situations. He'd lost count of how many times he, and other Slytherins, had walked in on Blaise pleasuring one floozy or another, and the situation had been the same for Draco and every other Slytherin, even Crabbe and Goyle. At that thought, as much as he cared for Goyle, a touch of bile slowly rose in his throat and Draco stepped back into the room, focusing his attention on anything other than the curious sexual exploits of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

Millicent Bulstrode suddenly slithered into his thoughts and he shared them with Blaise in a whisper, knowing that the second he spoke about them, they would fly from his mind and land in his friend's.

This earned him a look of disgust, followed by a rather pointy elbow in the ribs. Blaise had unnaturally pointed elbows, something that made Draco want to avoid them at all costs.

Unfortunately, this time he wasn't fast enough and his spleen became a victim.

Luna, all the while, had skipped merrily over to where Hermione stood near the front of the room, waving her wand to write down various notes and subjects onto the board.

"Hallo," she greeted cheerily, rocking back and forth on her heels with her hands clasped behind her back. Luna looked like an overly excited child who had just heard some juicy and wonderful news. It made Hermione immediately suspicious.

"Hey Luna," she answered back, giving her wand one last swirl before the chalk faded from the air and the final words wrote themselves onto the board. "How are you today?"

"Oh, just wonderful, absolutely wonderful," Luna sang, wriggling elatedly on her feet. "And you? How are _you_ doing today? Anything _eventful_ happen recently?"

Hermione's suspicion rose and she sent a quick glance to Draco and Blaise, frowning as she watched the two boys wrestle, arguing loudly about unnaturally pointy elbows. It perplexed her even more than Luna's attitude, so she switched her focus back to the younger girl. "Ah, well, I'm fine, thanks. Ah, hello Ginny!" Hermione quickly switched focus, greeting the Prefects as they stepped through the door.

Unfortunately, the fellow students entering and the subjects of the meeting did not seem to break Luna's gaze from Hermione's. It was curious and knowing, ecstatic and excited, and made her wonder more and more if a strange, juicy rumour had been spread around the school once more. She just prayed that it wasn't one about her marital status or her physical condition.

Luna slowly managed to unnerve her more and more throughout the meeting, and Hermione swore that all the girl needed was a lollipop in hand and she would have easily replicated the image of a child who had seen something they weren't supposed but were unnaturally satisfied as what they saw.

The meeting had lasted longer than usual; they had had to go over the final proceedings for the Graduating Ball taking place in a few weeks, finalizing colours, themes, and the other nitty gritty details of it. By the time the Prefects stepped out of the room, bodies were awkward from the chairs, feet had fallen asleep, and one poor student had fallen over because his leg had gone numb up to his knee. Despite their condition at the end, they had fortunately been able to come up with a final plan and had fairly distributed the tasks among them.

Sighing with relief, Hermione twirled her wand to clear the board of all notes before sitting back on the desk and stretching her arms above her head. "I'm glad that's over," she breathed, leaning back on her arms.

Luna and Ginny stood on either side of her, shaking slightly to stretch and warm up their numb limbs. "Honestly, I was afraid that Seanacy wouldn't stop asking about the band. It was getting on my nerves," Ginny said with a huff of frustration.

"Well, it doesn't help when you have a couple of Slytherin idiots arguing back," the brunette answered, gesturing with her head to her boyfriend and Blaise, who stood off to the side, casually talking with Harry. It was a sight that made her want to do a double-take; it was perplexing and beautiful all at the same time. She had to admit, ever since she and Draco had begun dating, she had never fathomed that he and Harry would be mature enough to engage in a civil conversation.

"They wanted some loud, infernal band to play," Ginny said, "but Seanacy could have just kept quiet about it and let you have the final say."

"I liked it when you stepped on Draco's foot," Luna giggled giddily. The girl's eyes had still not removed themselves from Hermione, and the brunette wished that the girl would just tell her what was plaguing her mind. It was starting to really scare the Gryffindor.

"Well, I needed to shut him up." This resulted in a small explosion of giggles to erupt from the other two girls.

"So," Ginny breathed as the last chuckle subsided, "have you figured out what you're going to be wearing? I've got this fantastic gold dress that Harry is going to _love_."

Ah, the ever inevitable conversation about clothes, in particular the outfits that would be worn the day of the ball. It was something that had been slowly nagging Hermione at the back of her mind but she had not paid any attention to it up until now. Honestly, dresses were, and had always been, the last thing in her mind whenever big events like this were coming up. In the past, she had always been so overwhelmed by the problems with Voldemort and Harry that dresses and enjoyment had always been an after-thought.

Slowly, she realized that, for the first time in her life, she would be able to truly and entirely enjoy a school event. Once all of the preparations were over, of course.

"I'm not sure yet," she answered slowly, trying to pick her words correctly. She knew that if she blatantly told Ginny she hadn't cared until now, the redhead would have a typical Weasley woman fit. But, if she made it sound like she was a little too focused on the dress, Ginny would think something was up.

It was always hard to find a proper balance to avoid outbursts or incessant questions.

"Well, have you decided on a style? What colour scheme do you want to wear? What's Malfoy wearing? I'll bet he's wearing something in green, so Slytherin of him," Ginny added with a snort.

Hermione rolled her eyes at that comment, adding that Harry would probably be wearing red for Gryffindor and that Ginny's gold dress was obviously an ode to the House as well. "A lot of students wear their House colours," Hermione continued when Ginny scowled, "we tend to just favour them after so many years. I also think that a lot of students tend to look good in their house colours." She turned to Luna, who had been silently listening to their discussion, swaying back and forth with a wide smile on her face. Yet again, very unnerving, but not too unusual. "Luna, do you have your dress planned out yet?"

"Oh yes, but it's a special custom order; I didn't like any of the ones they had in the store, so I sent in my design, and they said they would do it…although, their response was a touch odd."

That was not surprising, given Luna's taste in clothes.

"What did they say?" Ginny pressed, joining Hermione on the table as Luna plopped down in the chair in front of them, adding an extra twirl before sitting.

"Something along the lines of how they've never seen such a request before and that I had a very unique taste in design. It was the way it was worded that sounded a bit odd, but I think," Luna smiled, "they were praising me. I always knew that people would enjoy the clothes I design."

"Ah, yes," Hermione slowly responded, "your outfits are very…interesting."

"Oh thank you," the blonde answered giddily, clapping her hands together.

"So, would you like to go dress shopping this weekend? Since classes are just about over, we have been given a free pass this weekend and the next to go down to Hogsmeade. We can go to Gladrags, which is better than Madame Malkin's in the gown department. They have a wonderful inventory and some of the best designers working for them," Ginny asked, eyes glowing with excitement. "You will need a dress, and if you need alterations done, it should be done now so it's ready by the Ball."

Hermione was frightened at the prospect of going shopping for any kind of clothing with Ginny, the girl was a whirlwind in stores, swirling on through and savagely taking apart any and all racks she could get her hands on. She would try on mountains of clothes and make Hermione try on dozens more. Then, once it was all over, she would pressure Hermione so much that the girl would end up buying at least one item from the store. At least Ginny had a decent idea of what looked good on Hermione, although more often than not she was pressuring her into wearing something a little too scandalous.

At this moment, however, she saw that they would have no choice in the matter; Hermione needed a dress for the Ball and it appeared as though Ginny needed to return to the shop to check up on her alterations.

Luna added a little quip that made the brunette's heart thud loudly in her chest; "At the same time, you can get Draco his birthday present."

Hermione's head flung in Luna's direction, eyes wide with shock. "Draco's birthday?" Never before had she felt so clueless and at a loss.

"Yes, Blaise told me that it is on June 5th, next Friday," Luna answered cheerily, completely oblivious to Hermione's rising panic.

Glancing quickly over to where her boyfriend continued to chat with the other men, she spun back around, hissing softly, "I had no clue it was his birthday."

Ginny's eyes widened in shock while Luna merely shrugged, "That's fine," the blonde answered, "Blaise wouldn't tell me his birthday the whole first year we were together. I don't know why, because I love gift shopping."

Hermione knew exactly why, but she wouldn't voice that aloud. Instead, Ginny let out a small shriek of disbelief. "It's not a small matter," she said louder than Hermione wished for, "forgetting that is really important. I mean, it's your first year, it will be the most important one out of them all."

"Ginny, hush," Hermione hissed, hoping that Ginny would heed her words and keep her voice down. She had had no clue if Draco knew when her birthday was, but she was pretty sure that if they had started going out before then, he would have found some way or another to find out. He was, after all, a mastermind at finding information. If he overheard that she hadn't even tried to figure out when his birthday was, she had no idea how he might react.

Of course, as always, it was a given that Ginny's voice would travel, resulting in Draco sauntering his way over to intrude on their conversation.

"Now, what has my lovely lady forgotten that's so incredibly important?" he asked with a flashing smile, oozing charisma in an attempt to woo Ginny into blabbing about their conversation.

Hermione gave the girl a well placed and well hidden elbow in the kidney before she could respond, signaling to the redhead to keep her mouth shut.

"Ah, well, it appears as though Hermione forgot about…ah…she forgot to buy her dress for the Graduation Ball," Ginny said quickly.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief; the redheaded girl could sometimes come up with the worst excuses when put on the spot. Thankfully, she had paid careful attention to the way Hermione's elbow dug gently into her ribs.

Draco eyed them for a brief moment, arching his brow in contemplation, before rolling his eyes and waving his hand in a dismissive fashion. "Only that? Typical girl talk; all you do is discuss clothes, make-up and boys," he responded.

Normally, it would have irked Hermione, but he sent her a teasing look that told her he thought otherwise of her. He was well aware that, while she was very feminine, she did not allow her life and thoughts to be consumed by fashion, make-up or handsome men.

"Of course," he added, reaching forward to lift Hermione's hand and press a gentle kiss to her palm, "I know that you do think quite frequently about a certain man."

At this she scoffed and, smiling, answered; "You are too full of yourself, my dear Draco. How do you not know that I have little crushes on famous actors or Quidditch players." He laughed at the word Quidditch. "I mean," she continued, "if you have seen pictures of Robert Downey Jr., I think that even you would fancy him. He is quite sexy and is a very delicious Iron Man."

Draco sent her a wary look, brow slowly arching once more as he contemplated her words. "This Robert Downey Jr. … do you know him personally? How often do you think about him?"

She snickered lightly as jealousy flared in his grey eyes; oh how she adored teasing him.

When he saw her laughing, he could help but huff loudly and cross his arms, realizing that this had all been done for her amusement alone. Even the girls watching had chuckled despite their lack of knowledge of Robert Downey Jr.

At this, he let out another huff and made his way back to Blaise and Harry, who had not been bothered to break their conversation. Quidditch was, and had always been, far more important than female affairs.

Hermione giggled as she watched her boyfriend move away, turning back to her friends. "I was quite serious, you know. I'll have to show you two a picture of him, because he is a very sexy man."

"Oh, I know," Luna breathed softly, a wistful look in her eyes.

The confused look the Gryffindor girls sent to Luna prompted the Ravenclaw to continue, "Ah, every summer I like to take a small trip to Muggle London and watch as least one film in the cinema. I just happened to catch 'Iron Man' last summer, and I can definitely see the appeal."

This came to a surprise to Hermione; she had never known any Wizarding family to be willing to go to Muggle areas. Even Arthur, who had always been so passionate about Muggle creations, had never been able to successfully visit and blend in with a Muggle town.

It was, overall, a very pleasant surprise.

"So," Ginny began with a smile, "shall we make our way to Hogsmeade tomorrow and get Hermione a dress?"

"Oh yes," Luna answered with a clap of her hands, "it sounds like fun."

Bells jingled merrily as Hermione inwardly groaned. She was not looking forward to this.

* * *

Hermione yawned as she stepped into the Great Hall, utterly exhausted. It had been a long night, what with having to deal with the sudden cornucopia of people and magazines filling the living area of the Heads' Tower, then having to deal with Draco's midnight urges that lasted well over an hour. Needless to say, getting up early enough to plan a day at Hogsmeade was very much unwelcome, but necessary. Furthermore, in spite of being within talking distance of Blaise the entire night, with Draco in the room; she'd been unable to ask him about potential birthday gifts. All she knew was the day of his birthday, which really didn't help that much except put a strict time limit in place.

Sighing heavily, she, for the first time in a long time, grabbed a jug of coffee and filled her mug with as much as she could, adding a copious amount of sugar and milk to lighten the bitter taste. She had not always been a big fan of coffee, but at this point in time, she was more than ready to inject it in her body if she could stay awake long enough to get the dress shopping out of the way.

She was halfway through her toast and jam, and on her second cup of caffeine, when Luna plopped merrily down on the seat to her left, jingling away as she had the previous day, braids and bells still in her hair. The remainder of her clothes, however, suited the ringing; the fairy-like pink skirt swirled around her ankles and the matching long sleeves of her top flowed in an unknown breeze. She looked, and sounded, very much the part of a medieval fairy.

Ginny, who appeared just seconds after on Hermione's right, looked very much normal in jeans and a comfortable shirt. Hermione was grateful for the ounce of sanity in her world.

Immediately, the two began chattering away like birds on a Cheering Charm, twittering about what kind of dresses she should try, how many, what colours could look best, and the whole nine yards. Of course, it was all made worse because Luna still kept those damn bells, jingling happily with every movement. The talk followed her out of the Great Hall, through the entrance, and all the way down to Hogsmeade like a incessant, annoying animal chasing her. She silently bore it, putting up several barriers against the onslaught as she waited for the caffeine to give her system the appropriate jolt she needed.

Of course, the moment they stepped into Gladrags, the chattering tripled as the girls ran about and gawked over the numerous ball gowns on display. Normally, she shop would have been filled with a myriad of clothes, but given the time of year, the majority of the stock included ball gowns, dress robes, and some summer articles. The remainder of the stock had been pushed into a magically-added side room that, very much like the Weasley's tents, was ten times larger than it appeared to be.

It took some time for Hermione to get over the overwhelming feeling of being drowned in taffeta, lace, silk, and chiffon, but soon enough she managed to breathe enough to take in her bearings and look through the gowns. It had taken three times as long for Luna and Ginny to stop showing up with dresses that Hermione would only wear if threatened with a painful death. In all honesty, Hermione loathed dress shopping for the simple reason being that it was such a difficult process. Often times, there were either too few dresses that she cared for, or there were too many and she couldn't decide on just one. Furthermore, dresses had a tendency to be over-priced, which was incredibly frustrating.

Sighing heavily, she ignoring the twittering of Luna and Ginny, moving over to peruse the racks furthest away from her friends. While the two girls were amazing, she could only take them in small doses when it came to their current state. If she wasn't careful, they would slowly succeed in exhausting her and she would be much more pliant to their whims.

Perusing a rack of dresses on sale, she only heard the rustle of cloth at the very last minute. Spinning around, hand instinctively presses on her wand, she frowned when she saw Luna and Ginny standing near the changing rooms with a monstrous pile of taffeta, silk, lace, and other materials gripped tightly in their joined arms.

"Ah, bloody hell," she muttered, grabbing a couple of dresses she'd been looking at to add to the pile before the duo managed to shove her into the nearest room and dump the dresses on top of her.

It took her at least five minutes to escape the materials, then another five to ten to just separate the dresses. It only took her two minutes to toss back, without even trying on, all of the dresses she didn't care for. It took her twenty to finally convince Luna and Ginny that those dresses were just not her style and she would never even consider buying them.

Honestly, she felt like a doll or a mannequin, every time she stepped out in a dress, they poked and prodded at the sequins, lace and bust line, either tugging it further up or yanking it down. They fidgeted with the waists, fluffed the skirt, and she just wanted to smack them both over their heads.

"Ah, bugger off!" she finally snapped when Ginny made a grab for her breasts to make sure they were sitting properly in the corset of the dress. Both girls sent her unsure looks, suddenly realizing that they had kind of stepped over the line. "Look," she huffed loudly, "I don't mind having you two look and criticize, that I can take, but can you stop _touching_ me?"

"Who's touching who and should I be jealous?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" This came from Ginny.

Standing near a rack of expensive gowns stood Draco, his arms crossed and a small smirk toying at his lips.

"It's a free world now, isn't it? Can't a man go wherever he wants?"

"Luna," Hermione half-whined, "wasn't Blaise supposed to keep him distracted for the day?"

"Ah, about that," the blond said, stepping forward to plop onto the cushioned couch facing the changing rooms, "I knew something was up so I ditched him."

"You didn't do anything stupid, did you?" Hermione warned.

"Oh no, I just locked him in the washroom at Rosmerta's, of course it's only a temporary charm, but it was made to last long enough for me to escape." He examined his nails at he spoke, the smirk widening as if he was proud of his achievements.

"You're a nuisance," Hermione sighed with a roll of her eyes.

"I'm a curious individual. Isn't curiosity a good thing, my lovely bookworm?" He said it, of course, with pure affection and she knew it.

"Curiosity also killed the cat," she retorted, sending a brief pleading look to Ginny and Luna.

The girls looked torn; while they knew that Hermione wanted to surprise Draco at the ball, they also knew that he might have some good input. He might also be able to persuade her to get a more expensive dress by offering to help pay for it. Of course, she would probably refuse, but he was always more than able to talk with the owner and convince her to 'reduce the price' because Hermione was a war hero and merely send him the rest of the bill.

He was, after all, a man raised in a world of business and he could be very persuasive.

Ginny took him aside, out of ear shot from Hermione, and whispered her plans to him, bringing up the cost and offering, in exchange, to tell him the style and colour of the dress.

"I would prefer to know just what I'd be paying for," he countered.

"Look," Ginny sighed, "Hermione really doesn't want you to see her in the dress until the Ball. She's never really been seen as a very feminine person, what with Ron and Harry being so bloody thick for all these years, so this is like an opportunity for her to show just how feminine she can be. It may not seem like much to most people, but to her it means a lot more."

"But I definitely know how feminine she can be," he answered, wiggling his eyebrows to make sure get 'got the drift.'

At this she cursed quietly, torn between nausea and happiness that someone appreciated Hermione for who and what she was. "Pervert," she muttered. "No wonder she gets so frustrated with you at times."

It took a brief moment, as he laughed at her response, that she slowly came to terms with the current situation. Here she was, standing casually by Draco Malfoy of all people. Just over a year ago, she despised every fiber of his being, and now she was able to stand next to him and talk to him just as she would chat with Neville or even Ron and Harry. It was eerie, slightly awkward, and yet it made her happy, mainly because she knew that it made Hermione happy.

Yet, despite their past, she was growing comfortable around him. She slowly realized that he was a human being just like everyone else; he had been through a difficult time, probably far more difficult than she could ever imagine, and yet, deep down, he was still a normal guy who had a sense of humour and felt love like everyone else. And a part of her actually began to like him. He treated Hermione right, he loved her deeply and affectionately, and he had quite the sense of humour. He was also, surprisingly, extremely intelligent.

This realization scared her; she was starting to like Draco Malfoy. Yet, a part of her, a part that had grown and matured throughout the years, realized that it was inevitable. He was charismatic, kind, a little arrogant (okay, maybe very), and willing to reach out a hand in friendship.

Besides, if Luna liked him, then he had to be relatively decent now; Luna had always been, in spite of her aloof personality, a very good judge of character. She always saw beneath the dirt and grime of the surface and delved into the true character underneath.

"But," he continued as his laughter ceased, "if it's really that important to her, then I will leave after having a word with the delightful Mister Pascal Meena about getting a price reduction for my delightful little Gryffindor." He let out another chuckle and reminded Ginny of some conniving, haughty, yet good-natured prince.

"Hermione has weird taste in men," she muttered as she turned back to Hermione, who looked like she was being eaten by a gown of white chiffon. "Oh dear…"

Just as she managed to weave her way around the racks, something smacked her hard in the face. Grabbing the object, she sent a glare around the room searching for whoever had dared throw something. Catching a glimpse of silver-blond hair making its way to the door, she barely had the time to take a few steps towards the offensive creature before he called out, "That one should be perfect!" and stepped out of the store.

Still gripping the object, Ginny sent a furious glare at his retreating form, wishing that Hermione had just gotten a normal boyfriend and not this strange Slytherin creature. Taking a moment to calm down, once she felt her face cool down she looked down at the item in her hand.

It was silky, very soft, very smooth and quite light. It was a deep crimson in colour and shimmered in her hands, a bright twinkling in the light showcasing the crystal beading on the fabric. She almost felt jealous.

Almost.

Holding the object, this time with much more care than before, she made her way back over to where Hermione had trudged her way back into the changing room. Luna was looking rather contemplative on the couch. Sending the blonde a smile, Ginny stuck her head in the changing room, earning a loud shriek of surprise from Hermione.

"Cute bra," the redhead commented before thrusting the garment into the stall and in Hermione's hands, "here, try this."

With one hand across her chest, Hermione reached out with her free one to take the dress. "What is this?"

"A dress."

"From who?" Suspicion caused a brow to raise and a small wrinkle to form along her brow.

"It kind of seemed to throw itself at me," Ginny teased before sauntering out of the room. She had to say, if this dress was the one, she'd either give Draco a prize or scowl at him with frustration over the fact that he chosen 'the one' instead of her. Of course, it wasn't like they were wedding dress shopping…

Plopping down beside Luna, she waited for a good ten minutes before Hermione struggled – with comedic sound effects – to free her body from the remainder of the chiffon dress and then – now silently – slide into the dress unceremoniously dumped on Ginny by Draco.

Then…silence…

They waited a few minutes, glancing occasionally back and forth, and all they could hear was the tick of the clock above the register and the sound of Mister Meena, the owner of the shop, fussing about over the display racks in front of the store. No more rustling of fabric, no more struggling grunts, there was nothing.

Finally, just before Ginny was about to call for the older woman, the door slowly opened and Hermione stepped out.

Luna clapped her hands loudly, the bells that still resided in her hair from the day before jingling away, while Ginny's jaw slowly opened and stayed open.

"Ah," Hermione blushed darkly at their reactions, swirling around in the dress, "I…I really like this one." She scratched the back of her neck before turning around to look at herself in the nearest full-length mirror. Her blush deepened even more, yet her eyes twinkled merrily with joy. "I really, really like this one."

Mister Meena suddenly scurried over to her and Ginny suspected that Draco had told him to do so the second she stepped out in the dress, and he began fussing and squealing loudly over her appearance, giving compliment upon compliment.

"The shape is perfect for you, it's so nice, so lovely, you look absolutely stunning!" And the compliments just kept on coming, almost to the point where Ginny had to admit she was a tad jealous. The colour looked just perfect on Hermione; the red was velvet deep and accented her tanned skin gorgeously. It even managed to bring out the auburn and golden highlights in her hair. Ginny was, no matter how hard she tried to ignore the feeling, jealous because she had always loved the colour red but it looked garish when contrasting with her hair.

Yet, in spite of her jealousy, she was glad that Hermione finally looked giddy and feeling feminine for the first time in a long time. Clothes shopping had always been a difficult thing for her.

"I'll buy it," Hermione suddenly announced after having an in-depth discussion with Mister Meena, most likely about the price. "It's…it just feels so perfect."

Luna got up and happily embraced Hermione; while shopping for a Graduation dress was not a truly momentous occasion, getting Hermione to buy something so expensive and beautiful most definitely was. Ginny was actually terrified of the day she had to go wedding dress shopping.

As Ginny grinned at Hermione, another faint flash of jealous tugged at her heart.

"Fucking bastard," she muttered under her breath, "he was right."

Damn Malfoy.

* * *

**So, first, I know that no sort of excuse could be used for this damn period of wait I inflicted upon all of you. It wasn't right and while I do have good excuses, they still don't mean that it was right that I made you guys wait.**

**So, first and foremost, I'm very, very, very, very x infinity sorry about the wait. I had a lot of stuff going on for the past few months. This summer I worked 2 jobs, did a summer session at University to get extra credits, had soccer, and then I also needed to have a bit of a life on top of it. Basically, I had, if I was lucky, one day off a week. Even during my vacation, I was working. **

**Then, school started. I'm in my last session of University, so I want to do well. I have classes three days a week, but I also work three days, and my day off has been used so far to catch up on school work. So basically, I haven't had much time.**

**I would normally write on the train to and from school, but I've been taking the bus a lot and I really don't feel comfortable having my laptop out on the bus. **

**So those are pretty much the excuses: work, school, soccer, boyfriend, and life in general. Also, I went through a major period of writer's block, then I absolutely hated the first half so I re-wrote, then I hated that one and re-wrote it again, and finally I'm feeling okay with it. I just wanted a little Luna-Blaise scene to get the readers in their minds and to use it as a filler to catch up on what happened during the big time leap. **

**Anyway, I'm sorry again for the wait. I now plan on focusing intently on this until it is completed. I basically have maybe two, possibly three, chapters left and it will be done! **

**Thank you all for your unbelievably patience and for your kindness. You really are all the best. **

**Now please review and let me know that some of your are still alive and well! I miss you guys. **

**P.S. Pascal Meena was kind of my way of playing with the word Pashmina, which is a very nice, silky and expensive fabric made in India. I thought it might be my way of playing around with words and stuff. I hope it kind of worked.  
**


	25. Forgiveness

**Brief warning: there's a nice amount of language early on. **

**First disclaimer in a while (I think): I don't own anything and, if you saw my bank account, you would know that I make absolutely no money off of this. It is purely for my (and the reader's) enjoyment. Also, the quote seen later is by C. Joybell C.  
**

**Note: Pommes de terres a la salardaise: potatoes roasted in garlic and duck fat that normally accompany duck confit.  
Slow braised cabbage: it would normally be braised with red wine and apples  
Duck confit: something that takes a long freakin' time to make. Basically, it's salt-cured first with salt, garlic, and herbs, then it is kept in that state for 36 hours. The meat is then cleaned and put in a roasting pan and slowly cooked and, eventually, poached for 4-10 hours. Hermione does this a little different in that she crisps the skin at the end to create a little bit of texture. It's basically a really unhealthy but amazingly delicious duck recipe. If you ever go to a good restaurant, I suggest trying it. My boyfriend had it at this Italian place near my house (Mundo Trattorio for anyone in the Montreal region; it's in Pointe-Claire) and it was so FREAKIN' GOOD! But really not that healthy for you, haha.  
**

**Also, a little response (which I normally don't do)  
QueenDivaSmile: basically, Ginny was kind of still getting used to Draco, so she's torn between being a smarmy bitch and being polite, which can kind of come off as a strange type of flirtation. She's still happily with Harry and if anything happened to them, I would let you guys know. But she was definitely not hitting on Draco. More like indecisive on how to react to him. It gets cleared up here. Also, with regards to Ron, we will be covering him in the next chapter (probably) with some update on his status and the like. So far though, he's still in St. Mungo's getting treated for his (eloquently put) CGW Syndrome (Curse-Gone-Wrong Syndrome). So he's still not around right now.  
I just wanted to clear that up for you, since you had questions. :) I hope that the answers were/are satisfactory.  
**

**Now onto the chapter!  
**

**Chapter 25**

**Forgiveness**

He'd been having this delightful conversation with Blaise while perusing the rows of necklaces at the local jewelry store in Hogsmeade when he sneezed loudly. He heard Blaise chuckle and mention something about someone thinking about him as he sniffled loudly, but the second Draco lifted his head, his friend was gone from sight.

Frowning, the blond looked around the shop but found it empty save for a few giggling girls watching him and a rather green looking boy surrounded by friends staring down at a selection of rings. He didn't see Blaise's head anywhere among the shelves and stands and his lips slowly curled into a frown.

What kind of bleedin' sorcery was this?

"'Ello Draco!"

"Buggering Weasels, the whole lot of you are nuisances," he grumbled as Ginny materialized behind his back with a wide grin on her face. "What the hell do you want and have you seen Blaise?"

"You could be a lot nicer to the woman who comes bearing news regarding Hermione's dress," Ginny reminded him as she rapped her fingers on the glass case holding the necklaces.

Sighing heavily, he rubbed his face and sent her a quick look. "Did she take the one I gave you?"

"If you weren't shagging her, I'd say you were gay; it was perfect."

Draco narrowed his eyes in response to her words but turned his full attention back to the cases in front of him. "Good, that makes getting her jewelry much easier."

"You do realize she's going to be pissed when she finds out you picked the dress," Ginny said, leaning over the case to look at a selection of gold necklaces. She still hadn't chosen what pieces to wear with her dress and one particular necklace with a diamond teardrop looked quite appealing.

And it was on sale at half price.

Sales had to be the best things in life.

"Well, she just doesn't have to know then, does she?" he answered with a stern look at Ginny.

"Oh don't worry," Ginny waved, "besides, Luna and I helped pay for it. I figured that you would buy her more fancy stuff, given that you like to flaunt your money and all, so we decided to pay the remainder of the gown without telling her." At this she crossed her arms. "Consider it as a gift."

"Why a gift?" His words were directed to her but his eyes were intently focused on a silver pendant that had an ornate silver feather that had a ruby as its eye. For some reason, it just screamed her; she was much like a phoenix, rising from the ashes of the war to become this new, more powerful woman. It was delicately detailed enough to be high-class and fancy, yet subtly simple enough that she could wear it for every day occasions if paired with the right clothes.

It was also very expensive, but he could always barter a lower price.

Ginny tapped her wand on the case and a perfect imitation of the gold necklace appeared around her neck. She examined herself in a mirror that materialized, giving appraising looks. "You see, first you chose the dress and you have very good tastes. So good that I, again, worry about your relationship with Blaise." Again with the gay commentary…honestly. "But, it's also because you treat her right."

At this he glanced over to her, unsure of whether he just heard her right or not. She was complimenting him? Sure, it came right after she questioned his sexuality, but still…he never thought that he'd see the day that a Weasley would be complimenting him.

The world must have stopped on its axis the day Voldemort died and then began to spin in the opposite direction, it's the only explanation for these things.

At his confused look, she decided to continue. "You've been a lot of things in the past, to sum it all up you were a downright bastard. I hated you with a passion, hated your face, your family, and everything you stood for." He actually appreciated the honesty. "You were a bloody fool who didn't know the meaning of equality. But…someone once told me that people are capable of change. And someone once showed me this. I figured that if Snape could change, maybe other people could, people who had been Death Eaters, people who had been racist bastard who couldn't stand the idea of anyone other than Purebloods doing well in life.

"Then, you came along. You came along and you fucked everything right up. You screwed up all of my original notions that idea I had was pushed in fast-forward. You were the worst; I saw you as this horrible creature who blindly followed Voldemort and was as racist as racist can be. But then we found out you were actually on our side, that the later years were an act and the earlier years were a result of horrible upbringing, and this messed stuff up. You truly and honestly messed up my opinion of you and the Slytherins because you created this whole new person, this new potential personality that I hadn't even considered, and that…that was hard to take."

She took a deep breath, eyes still focused on the case, this time examining a pair of earrings that matched the necklace. Draco, however, was leaning on the glass frame and listening raptly, eyes never wavering from her freckled face.

"To make matters worse, you had to go ahead and make Head Boy and Hermione had to be daft enough to fall right into your arms. First friends, then, next thing I know, you two are madly in love. That really messed me up, because that was something that, regardless of how much we've changed, I could not accept. It hurt to accept it, I didn't want to accept it, and it took a long period of contemplation to finally realize that Hermione was actually in love with you. That was hard to accept, because it meant that I was accepting that you were a good person. Then everything with Ron happened and I wanted to believe you caused it, you did something to my brother to make him turn on her…but, basically, these past several months have been one long period of acceptance. And fucking hell, you really sped things up. I had no choice, but I decided that if I couldn't stop her, I would watch you."

"What are you, some kind of creepy stalker?" he interjected. When she turned to glare at him, she saw the way his eyes twinkling in a teasing manner, contrasting with the scowl of his lips.

Letting out a breath, she shook her head and turned back to the earrings, magically placing a copy on her ears. Tapping her wand to the mirror, she allowed the image to morph to one of her wearing her ball gown. Draco, however, ignored this and kept his eyes focused solely on her, anticipating her reaction. Never before had he heard such words coming from the female Weasley, heck, he had never imagined that he would ever hear such things, save for the first part. But then again, he knew that he had been a right bastard for the majority of his life, Lucius had made sure of that.

"Anyway," she continued, "I kept an eye on you, made sure that you did her right. I made sure that you never made Hermione cry, never insulted her, made her feel bad for who she is, and I wanted to be damned sure that you weren't just using her to improve your image. That was the most important thing; I didn't want you using or abusing her. Hermione is a great woman, she's powerful, beautiful, intelligent, and pretty damned amazing, but she also hasn't had the greatest of luck when it comes to men. Hell, it took Harry and Ron four damn years before they realized that she was a girl! Then throw in people like Krum and McLaggen into the picture and it just gets worse. So, obviously, I needed to make sure that _you_ of all people treated her right, and I have the right as her friend to do just that."

Draco waited as she paused, watching as she waved around her wand, dismissing the mirror and the jewelry. Slowly, she turned to face him, crossing her arms over her breasts. "You surprised me. You really, truly and honestly fucked up everything I thought I knew about the world and people. When I saw her smiling in a way I haven't seen her smile in such a long time, when I saw just how happy she was…you messed up my mind. Hell, I still don't want to believe it, but I know I have to. You're much better than I've ever thought of you to be, you actually give a damn and you treat her like she deserves to be treated. That's why," she smiled at him, "I said that paying for the dress was a gift. It's my way of saying thank you for being what Hermione needs, for treating her right, and for making her feel like she's the only person you see and love in the whole wide world. And thank you for being honest about your feelings, for not lying or making them up." Her smile widened but remained soft, almost wistful, yet filled with nothing but pure contentment and approval. "Thank you, M…Draco."

There was an awkwardly comfortable silence that slowly fell around them and, as if they couldn't bear looking at each other any longer. He turned his gaze back down to the pendant under the case, eyeing a pair of silver teardrop earrings that had little rubies in the center. It kept him distracted briefly, focusing his attention on calling over the owner in order to purchase the jewelry. Once the owner hurried off to package and charge the items, he chanced a glance at Ginny, finding her staring longingly at the gold necklace and matching earrings.

When the owner materialized again, he discussed a few things with the man behind the counter before sauntering over to where Ginny stood in front of a case in the corner.

"You know, I never thought that I'd be able to converse normally with pretty much anyone, let alone a Weasley," he admitted softly, causing her eyes to glance over to him. "This is probably even more surprising to me than it is to you. But, I want to…thank you for everything you just said." He chuckled in spite of the seriousness of their conversation, rubbing his chin with his fingers. "That just doesn't sound right…I'm thanking a Weasley."

She pursed her lips and glared at him, tilting her head in an attempt to look menacing, reminding him that she could cause a great deal of pain with very little effort. It almost had him tugging at his collar…almost.

"Well, it was just as strange thanking a damn Malfoy," she retorted sharply.

At this he laughed and rolled his shoulders, preparing to trudge through the rest of his speech, although it wasn't going to be nearly as long as hers. "Look, as awkward as this is, I just want to say that you're right. I want to treat Hermione right; she's such a beautiful, wonderful, and perfect woman and she deserves to be treated with respect and the utmost love. I do my best to make sure that she knows this every day, that I love her." He leaned against the case, reaching for the boxes when the owner re-appeared to hand him his purchases. He nodded in thanks. "Basically, I want to say thank you for being honest, and for starting to…accept me." He reached forward and pressed two boxes into her hands, his eyes twinkling. "This is my thanks to you for watching over Hermione for all these years." He turned his back to her at this point, both not wanting and not caring over her reaction to his gift. It really didn't matter in the end; the real gift was the hand of friendship she had just bestowed upon him. Of course, he would never make it that obvious.

"She's a wonderful woman," he said as he made his way to the door, "she's lucky to have a friend like you."

Ginny followed him, clutching the boxes to her chest, her expression torn between relived joy and uncertain wariness. The last gift Malfoy had 'given' her, after all, had been the damn diary in her first year, although it had technically been given to her by his father. In her mind, however, it was hard to remove the ideology of all Malfoys being the same and 'once a Malfoy always a Malfoy.' She knew that it was the same for him, which made the conversation they had just had feel all the more awkward.

"Just so you know, we're not best friends now or anything," she piped up, stuffing the boxes into her bag.

"I never once thought we were," he answered as he opened the door, the bell chiming brightly as a warm spring breeze filtered into the shop.

When they stepped out of the shop, Draco quickly looked around, searching for any unwanted attention. Satisfied that they were relatively alone and nobody was fixated on them, he flashed Ginny a quick and very-Malfoy-esque smile before stretching his hand out to hers. "Acquaintance?" he asked.

She hesitated for a moment; she had been able to deal with the conversation inside, but she had never thought that she might have to _touch_ the self-centered Slytherin. Then again, never before in her life had she thought that Hermione, of all people, would be the one to fall in love with her childhood tormentor.

"I think the world went upside down the day Voldemort was killed," she muttered, earning a curious stare from him. "Honestly, think about it…"

"Little Miss Ginny Weasley the Gryffindor Princess and Scary Mister Draco Malfoy the Slytherin King, standing together outside of a jewelry store, reading and willing to put old feelings aside and establish some kind of amity? Oh trust me, this feels more like a nightmare to me," he answered. "But, given that Potter and I had recently discovered that we have numerous mutual interests, and that you and I only have Hermione's best interests in mind, it might be best to put aside the old thoughts and memories and try to at least be civil, correct?"

"You're still an annoying arse," she answered, reaching forward to shake his hand.

"And you're still the Weaslette," he responded as he shook then let go of her hand.

Quickly, Draco rubbed his hand on his legs and Ginny mirrored him. It felt awkward, uncomfortable, and left this dirty feel to their hands. "Now, where has my girlfriend and the delightful Lovegood hidden my mate Blaise from me?"

"So you think we kidnapped him?"

"Why else would he disappear and you suddenly show up with that annoyingly long speech? I've indulged you, so indulge me."

Ginny huffed loudly and stuffed her hands into the pocket of her sweater. So the ferret was smarter than he looked; bastard. "Ah, bugger off. We're supposed to meet at the Three Broomsticks in ten minutes, so let's just head there."

With that, she trudged ahead of him and he trailed behind, glad that the awkwardness was finally fading away. It had been hard enough trying to establish a friendship with Potter, it was even more difficult to deal with one of the Weasleys. He was terrified at the thought of having to handle the whole brood of them.

"You know, my mum isn't as forgiving as me," Ginny piped up, as if reading his mind.

"You know, unlike you, Hermione really likes it when I touch her with my fingers," he answered, wriggling his fingers at her for extra effect when she turned around to send him a dirty glare. "Just saying."

"Slimy git."

"Dim-witted ginger."

* * *

_Friday, June 5__th__, 2009_

Anxious could not even come close to describing how she felt at this very moment. Her stomach was twisting in knots like a pile of writhing snakes and she felt so jittery that she couldn't sit down for more than a minute without either jiggling her leg or needing to get up and move about. Needless to say, she was not used to having this much frustrating anxiety on her mind even though she had just endured a week's worth of final exams.

Pacing back and forth in the kitchen, Hermione glanced back to the cloak, noting that they were supposed to be back any second now. Taking in a deep breath, she smoothed out her skirt and took in her surroundings.

The Heads' Common Room hadn't really been decorated, but it had been more or less romanticized. She had dimmed the lighting and, only because they had so much of it left, threw a pinch of the red Rainbow Powder, giving the room a sultry glow to it. The dining table had been set up, a clean and crisp white table cloth spread across it and lightly decorated with a tall, thin and clear vase that was filled with white roses. It created a little romantic feel to the table, although she didn't want it to be too overwhelming or too Valentine's Day-ish. Today was about Draco.

Supper was already prepared and kept warm in the oven; Blaise had told her that Draco had been profoundly disappointed that the school rarely served duck, especially duck confit, so she had taken up the several-day task of preparing and cooking the time-consuming dish. Of course, she planned to serve it with the most typical accompaniments, _pommes de terres __à l__a salardaise_ and slow-braised red cabbage.

What she was most nervous about happened to be two things, given that the whole cooking process had been a total success. The first was the dessert portion of things; she had made decadent dark chocolate fondants with a raspberry sauce, but in order to ensure that they were delicious enough, she would have to put them in the oven just before they began supper. This meant that she would be breaking his main rule of no baking in the Heads' Tower.

Draco still hadn't come clean about his obsession regarding baking and she had been growing ever more curious with every passing day. It was an irrational fear and she could only assume that it had been brought about by a horrific experience. That or maybe it had only _seemed_ terrifying in the eyes of a child. That was what she had hoped for; that he had been frightened as a young boy and threw things out of proportion, as young children often did, making things seem scarier than they actually were.

All she knew was that she had worked far too hard on this meal to let him ruin it with his anti-baking attitude. If he didn't want to tell her why, then so be it, but she wanted to let him know that if she wanted to bake, she would, and that it would benefit him in the long run, since she was a rather good baker.

That was, of course, only fear number two.

Fear number one was whether or not she had chosen an appropriate birthday present for him.

Draco Malfoy was a young man who could easily have everything and anything he wanted. He had proven such when he had easily, without any problems, purchased her earring and necklace set to go with her Graduation Ball dress. She hadn't yet opened the boxes, explaining to him that she wanted to be surprised on the day of the Ball, but she knew that they were going to be stupidly expensive.

Damn rich prat.

So, what did one buy the man who had everything for his birthday?

Something sentimental.

That's what Blaise had told her, and initially she agreed, but then she realized that they had really over the sentimental-gift exchange at Christmas.

So what was left? She knew about his interests: Quidditch, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, fantasy books, and, as Blaise pointed out, her, which she blushed at.

It was only after a while that she had realized just what she could do for a gift and was quite satisfied with the results. Furthermore, if things went well with issue number two, then she could even give him the extra fun gift she'd purchased on a whim.

For now, however, she would have to try and settle her nerves while waiting for Blaise to escort Draco back to the Heads' Tower after they had gone out for a couple of celebratory Butterbeer after completing their final exam. Brushing her skirt once more, she moved to the fridge to pour herself a glass of water and sat down at the table in anticipation.

_2 hours later…_

Frustrated boiled over as she sent what had to be the twentieth Patronus out of the window in search of Draco and Blaise. Blaise had reassured her that they would be back for 7, and now it was 9 and she had been forced to pack up the food and put it in the fridge to keep it from drying out.

"Where the hell are they?" she grumbled, pacing back and forth by the windows facing Hogsmeade, keeping her eyes focused on the twinkling lights of the village beyond the grounds.

Her heart was aching and her body was trembling in a mixture of anxiety and anger. Two hours; they were two bleedin' hours late, and she had gotten absolutely no response from Blaise. Initially, fear had threatened to overwhelm her when she had stumbled back in time, falling back into a world of terror and threat. She wondered if something bad had happened, if someone had gotten to Draco or Blaise, if they had been kidnapped and were lying in some cold, dark dungeon waiting to be rescued.

But then she realized, calmly, that it was not 2006; they were no longer 17 and terrified. That was three years ago, a place of the past, and she willed herself to remember that they had managed to successfully lock away all of the darkness from those years. Today was meant to be a joyful day; it was, after all, Draco's twentieth birthday. It was, regardless, still difficult to push aside those old feelings and focus more on irritation rather than fear.

Fretting, she paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, letting out a loud sigh every five steps. She knew that this was very much unlike both Draco and Blaise; while they enjoyed life and partied as much as they possibly could, they both knew that she had made dinner plans with Draco this night – although Draco didn't know about the gifts – and they would have both been on time. They were, after all, individuals who prided themselves on punctuality.

Pausing, she let out one particularly long and loud sigh before rubbing her temples with her fingers. She needed to calm down; she couldn't just let herself get riled up and then snap at Draco the second he stepped in. Maybe something came up, maybe somebody got hurt or sick and he was helping to take care of them. Maybe Draco got hurt, maybe he fell down or cut himself or…well, he could have gotten hurt and that was why he wasn't here yet. It was a very plausible reason, although it caused the worries rooted in the war to slowly surface once more.

Sitting down on the couch, she reached forward to her glass of water, taking a deep drink to calm her mind.

"I'm sure everything is fine; they probably have a good reason," she reasoned aloud in an attempt to further ease her worries. "I'll just send Madame Rosmerta a Patronus and ask her if anything happened. If Blaise and Draco are busy with something, maybe they can't respond just yet."

Breathing out, she stood back up and moved to the window, sticking her wand out. "_Expecto Patronum_," she murmured, instructing the image what to say before watching the effervescent, cloud-like otter fly off to Hogsmeade Village.

It took about fifteen minutes for Madame Rosmerta's Irish Cob to return with a message that made Hermione see red. It appeared as though Blaise and Draco had met up with a few close Slytherin friends and were partying away with glass after glass of Firewhiskey, Elf-made wine and mead. Needless to say, Hermione's fears were now abated, and were instead replaced with an anger so strong it shook her body.

"Buggerin' bastards," she swore loudly, slamming the window shut after sending a quick 'thank you' Patronus to Madame Rosmerta. "I asked them to be here two hours ago, I said that it was okay if they were a tad late, but I _told_ them that it was because I had a dinner planned. Instead, what do they do? They go out and get drunk. A bunch of arseholes, the whole lot of them."

She continued to rant as she aggressively cleaned up the area, taking apart the set up on the dining room table and savagely dumping out the unbaked contents of her ramekins. Her heart ached and her stomach felt twisted and hot. She hadn't asked for much; just that Draco come and enjoy the nice dinner she had planned out. She hadn't really asked for much before this; no special Valentine's Day plans, no extravagant date nights, heck, she didn't even want Draco to know when she had gone dress shopping just so he wouldn't sneak around and pay for her gown behind her back. Ron had once called her the most 'low maintenance' girlfriend anyone could have ever asked for.

So why is it that when she asked for one little thing, for Draco to just be on time for a nice, celebratory, couple's dinner, he decided to spend his evening getting moronically drunk with his equally idiotic Slytherin compatriots?

"Fuckers," she muttered as she trudged from the Common Room to her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

With a flick of her wand, she locked her door and, after completing her evening washroom rituals and tossing Draco's presents unceremoniously onto his bed, she locked her door leading to the joint bathroom. Once they were locked, she cast one last locking spell on the room, reinforcing the locks on the doors and ensuring that nobody would be able to get in; she changed and crawled into her bed, still seething and aching.

"Bastards," she murmured, clinging to her pillow as silent tears began to slide down her face. It hurt, it hurt a lot, that Draco had decided to spend time getting wasted rather than enjoy a nice evening with her. She had never thought that she would feel such emotions, never once catered to the notion that such an event would upset her so. She thought that she was beyond such petty things, that she was rational and logical enough to push away the childish thoughts and focus more on getting revenge.

Instead, her heart twisted in her chest and her eyes burned with tears.

Burying her face in her pillow, she silently cried herself to sleep as Draco, down in Hogsmeade, drank himself into a stupor, completely oblivious to the hurt woman alone in her tower.

* * *

"Look, really, I-I have t-to goooo," he reasoned, body swaying in an unknown wind. It was as though the whole world was spinning and he had no way to stand straight.

"But we're having fuuuuuun," answered Gregory Goyle, whose voice ended on a rather high-pitched note as he drew out the last word. This resulted in a gaggle of Slytherin girls to erupt in giggles. Even Millicent, who had been contentedly holding hands with Elsa Mirren, managed an uncharacteristic girlish giggle.

"Yeah…bu-but I think I had something to do," Draco answered, still teetering on the spot as he tried to move away from the festive, boisterous, and rather inebriated group sitting in a booth at the back of the Three Broomsticks. "It..it was something important, I remember that!" he slurred, gesticulating wildly with his hand, index finger pointed at the group.

Blaise showed up at that very much and tucked his arm around Draco's, tugging his friend away. "Come on! I bet Granger's waiting for you to come back so she can shag the bleedin' piss out of you."

"Ah, I remember…it was something about Hermione!" Draco exclaimed as Blaise pulled him out of the Inn and into the chilly spring night.

They wobbled and stumbled their way back to the castle, laughing loudly then shushing each other before erupting into a fit of silent giggles. They weren't quite sure what was funny, but they knew that there was something hilarious going on. Draco would occasionally stop and make an exclamation about how he had something important to do with Hermione, but he couldn't quite remember what.

As they arrived at the school, Draco stopped at the wall nearest to the entrance and pulled down his pants. Blaise, hesitating at first, joined Draco in the act of emptying his bladder. Together, they chuckled loudly and, mid-piss, Draco suddenly threw his arms in the air, shouting, "Look Blaise! No hands!" With that said and done, he began wriggling wildly, childishly excited with the way everything moved and sprayed.

Blaise erupted into a fit of giggles at the sight and nearly pissed all over himself.

Once done their antics, they, still giggling loudly like a gaggle of girls, sloppily trudged their way into the school. Blaise, the more sober of the two, helped Draco make his way to the Head's Tower, both rambling endlessly about the most useless of things.

"Blaise, can I tell you a secret?" Draco suddenly slurred.

"I like secrets," Blaise answered with a smile.

"Her…Hermee-oh…Ah, fuck, I can't say her name, it's too hard right now," he mumbled, rubbing his face with his free hand, the other arm slung across Blaise's soldiers. "Hermy…she's the best fucking, and I mean _fucking_, thing to ever happen to me. Ya know that, right? She's like…bloody awesome! And man, her tits, they're so niiiiiiiiiiiiiice." Draco let go of Blaise and reached out, imitating groping a pair of breasts while chuckling loudly. "They're so soft and squishy!"

At the mention of Hermione, both men felt a niggling sensation at the backs of their minds, as if there was something to do with her that they had forgotten about tonight. It was there, somewhere, but they just couldn't find it in the fog of alcohol. Instead, Blaise smack Draco on the back in a gesture of camaraderie.

"That's awesome, mate," he grinned, "but, ya know, I gotta disagree…'cause Luna's got the best tits ever…when they're put in my face…aww man. Best _ever_!"

"I c…can't believe you're dating her," Draco answered as they continued on their way, done with the drunken showmanship. "It's so weird!"

"Yeah, but she's awesome."

"She is pretty cool."

"And she gives the best head _ever_!"

"No, Hermy does!"

They stumbled into the Head's Tower, giggling loudly about some comment Draco made about Neville and his toad, and they sloppily made their way to Draco's room, where the blond flopped happily onto his bed.

"It'shoooo comfy!" he mewled, burrowing his face into his pillow before splaying out. What he didn't notice was that the action caused two wrapped boxes to stumble onto the floor.

Blaise left Draco there, pleased in his success, before making his giddy way back down to the dungeons. It was only once he got there and had taken his sobering up potion, that he realized just what he had been forgetting all evening.

"I forgot about the bloody dinner!" he suddenly shouted, reaching up to rub his face. "Ah hell, she's going to be pissed!"

* * *

He woke up that morning with a splitting headache and the feeling of several snakes battling in his stomach. Groaning, silently cursing himself for being stupid enough to get so drunk the night before, he managed to reach into his bedside drawer and pull out a small vial. The sound of it clinking on the wood made his ears ring and head roar and he had to pause for a second to regain his bearings.

Slowly, he uncapped the bottle and brought it to his lips, mentally preparing himself for the ungodly tasted of the Sober Up Potion.

It made his stomach turn and he grimaced, falling back and groaning loudly as he gripped his stomach in an attempt to not throw it back up. Huffing loudly, he let out a sigh of relief as the sensation passed and flopped back against his pillow, closing his eyes.

"I'm never doing that again," he groaned, reaching up to rub his tired face. He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten so drunk; it had probably been the night of his eighteenth birthday, where he was able to celebrate, with his fellow Slytherin spies, the end of the war and his first birthday in a world of peace. He could barely remember the antics of that night, but apparently they had been hilarious, entertaining, and a bit dark when a few painful memories surfaced at numerous points in time.

At this instance, he could only remember snippets from the night, recalling the unbelievably delightful nachos Rosmerta had served, the pain he felt in his backside after falling off of a table he had been dancing on with Blaise, and something about tits and how awesome they were.

He knew that he hadn't done anything wrong, knew that Blaise would have kept an eye on him and he would have watched out for Blaise. He knew that he hadn't kissed someone else, or done anything remotely close to cheating. So why did he suddenly feel wracked with guilt?

Crawling out of bed, he stumbled briefly and tripped over an object on the floor. Muttering to himself about being cleaner, he bent down and paused in surprise at the two wrapped items on his floor.

Picking them up, he slowly sat back onto his bed, trying not to get too excited over the fact that he had just found two surprise presents in his room. He loved presents.

Giddily, he unwrapped one of them and was surprised to find just a cardboard box. Eyeing the container warily, he hesitated. He realized that he had been a little too quick to unwrap the paper and that, perhaps, there had been some kind of hex or spell on them. He reached over for his wands and cast several spells, trying to identity whether there were any harmful spells on the containers.

Satisfied that they were clear, he went back to opening the unwrapped gift. Slowly, he pulled out a rectangular, wooden frame that had glass walls. Inside of the case was a golden Snitch, its wings outstretched as if mid-flight. Engraved on a gold plaque on the front was the saying "It's beautiful to discover our wings and learn to fly."

He couldn't help but smile, recognizing the Snitch as the first one he had ever caught against the infamous Harry Potter; there was a faint burn mark on the top of it from one of Weasley's curses. He knew, immediately, who this gift was from and the sentimentality of it made his heart soar.

Even more excited now, he grabbed the second box, much smaller this time, and hurriedly unwrapped and opened it. Out fell a silver chain and pendant. Jewelry? He found it odd, but he had to admit it was a fine piece. Out fell a piece of paper with writing scrawled on it, writing he had recognized to be Hermione's. "_It's a Serch Bythol, a Celtic symbol. It symbolizes two people joined in mind, body, and spirit. A symbol of everlasting love."_

As he read the words, he found that tears suddenly pricked at his eyes and the guilt tore through his heart.

He hurt, inside and out, and he gripped the chain tightly as a particular memory flooded to his vision.

He had stood her up.

He had made a promise that he would enjoy a lovely dinner with her, and he had stood her up.

It was the only thing she had ever directly asked of him, the only time she had requested he do something for her, and he had completely forgotten about it.

She never asked for anything, never requested that he go out of his way to help her, all she had ever asked for was to be treated as an equal.

The one time…

Not only that, he dimly realized, but he had stood her up for _his_ birthday dinner.

"I really fucked up."

He put on the necklace and then jumped out of bed, not caring about his appearance; he hurried out into the Common Room, carrying the case holding the Snitch. He hoped that she was there on the couch, angry and sulking, and he had, unfortunately, been very wrong. The Common Room lay empty and bare, void of all life.

Hurriedly, he made his way back up the stairs and banged loudly onto her bedroom door, shouting for her name. After no response, he jiggled the doorknob and found it to be unlocked. Opening the door a crack, he peered in to find the room empty. Cursing loudly, he hurried to the entrance, toeing on a pair of shoes before hurrying through the castle in search of her. It was still relatively early, so breakfast was still going on. There was a good possibility that she had gone down to eat with Potter and the Ginger Queen, so he, clothes still askew and hair a mess, made his way down to the Great Hall to apologize.

He knew that, in general, it would not have been a big deal, but he had a feeling that she had put her whole heart and soul into the dinner last night. It was not very often that she got to do such things and she always put her all into them. Furthermore, the fact that it was the one and only time she had ever asked him to do anything, and that he had stood her up, made the pain in his heart that much more powerful.

Panting, he arrived at the entrance to the Great Hall and poked his head around the door, suddenly very much aware of how he was dressed. His shirt was half-button and partially un-tucked and his jeans were hanging loosely around his hips, the fly and buttons undone. His shoes were mismatched, hair mussed and he was quite sure that he smelled of liquor and smoke. Tugging his wand out of his pocket, glad that he had the mind to grab it, he cast a couple of quick charms, fixing his clothes to a more respectable state and clearing his body of all foul smells.

Breathing out a small sigh, he stuck his head back around the door and spotted her nibbling on a piece of toast beside the Weaselette. She was surrounded by her friends, Potter facing her, Longbottom on her other side, and Luna had merrily made her way over to sit facing the redhead while Seamus and Dean sat on the other side of Scarhead.

"Ah hell," he mumbled.

"We both owe her some apologies."

"That's if she doesn't hex our balls off first," Draco answered, unsurprised to find Blaise standing behind him, looking just as guilty as he felt, perhaps less so. She had, after all, asked Blaise to make sure that they were back in time for the dinner.

He was pretty sure that 3 in the morning was no 'in time' nor fashionably late.

"I'll go in first, diffuse it a bit," Blaise offered and Draco couldn't help but note that he looked considerably more dapper and cleaner than the blond.

Nodding, he watched as Blaise made his way into the Great Hall. Instantly, Hermione sent an angry glare his way and Luna suddenly took on the appearance of a scolding mother. The image mortified Draco, especially since Luna never once scowled or scolded. The fact that she was glaring at Blaise of all people terrified him.

He watched as Blaise spoke with Hermione, but he couldn't hear exactly what was being said. He watched as her face shifted to anger, frustration, disappointment and then acceptance. Blaise had somehow managed to get through her stubborn shell and obtain her forgiveness. It was an amazing feat in itself, especially given how recent the event was. But then again, Blaise had only been asked to watch for the time. He was not the one who had stood her up and upset her. He was merely an accomplice.

He then watched as Blaise tried to diffuse her feelings about Draco standing her up. He knew that his friend was talking about him because of the way Hermione's face contorted with a mixture of sadness and exasperation. He watched as her eyes glimmered with something he could not describe and, without any prior indication, Blaise began making his way over to the Slytherin table, which was notably absent of most seventh years. Alcohol had a tendency to do that to people.

Breathing in deeply, he fought back uncertainty and reminded himself that if Blaise could do it, so could he. Throwing back in shoulders and taking in another deep breath, he stepped into the Great Hall with every intention of gaining her forgiveness.

As he moved closer, he felt most of the eyes of the Gryffindors on him and he knew that he would have to do something big or go back alone. Potter was watching him with wary eyes, while the Ginger Queen flipped her hair and him off in the same sweep of the arm, Luna's eyes glimmered with disappointment, yet behind was a faint glow of excitement, as if she was anticipating what he might say, or a major fight. She really was strange.

Seamus and Dean merely glared at him while Longbottom shifted closer to Hermione in a protective gesture.

The one person he truly cared about, however, sent him one sharp glare before turning her attention back to her barely eaten toast.

His heart twisted at that; he had upset her so much that she wasn't even eating.

"Ah, Hermione," he said softly as he reached her. She kept her back to him but was visibly shaking. "Hermione, look…I…I wanted to apologize for last night. I know that I don't really have a viable excuse; I just got caught up in catching up with friends, and they kept feeding us drinks until I lost track of everything. But…it's really no reason for me to have stood you up."

"No, it isn't."

At least she responded, even it is was sharp and riddled with anger.

"I just…I wanted to say I'm sorry. I…I feel awful," he continued, realizing that several more eyes had fallen on him, eager to see what might happen. He knew, immediately, that this would be the gossip of the school for the next couple of days. Thank Merlin that classes were over.

"I shouldn't have done that, I shouldn't have stood you up," he continued after taking in a deep breath for confidence. Despite his past actions, he actually hated this kind of attention. He hated doing anything shameful in public; he preferred to be the star in a positive sense rather than a negative. Hopefully, he would be able to turn the tables, at least in her mind. He had recently learned to ignore the gossip of his fellow students and focus only on those who mattered.

"I should have refused those drinks, hell, I shouldn't have even gone." He rubbed his face with frustration, holding the Snitch's case close to his body with his free hand. "I did something really stupid and I really should not have done that. You never ask me to do anything, you never ask for stuff, you never demand for my free time, and the one and only time you ever asked for it, I really fucked it up. You…you're an amazing woman, Hermione, and I think that you are perfect in every sense of the way." At this, she sent him an unconvinced look and he cleared his throat. "I mean it, I really do," he continued. "You really are perfect; you're understanding, you're patient, you're kind, and gentle, and absolutely brilliant. I love it when you smile because you make my day, and every time I'm with you, I hate the idea of us parting, because I can't bear the thought. You're the most loving and beautiful person I'll ever know, and I hate it that I upset you like that. I was a bloody idiot for choosing to get drunk over spending time with you and I'm angry with myself for upsetting you so much."

He squatted down, so that she would not have to look up to keep eye contact with him. Gently, he pressed his hand on her knee and silently, soothingly, willed her to turn around and face him.

"Hermione," he said softly, "I'm sorry. I was a bloody idiot and I really upset you. You really never ask for much, you never ask for anything; you're so damn independent that I'm never able to do anything for you." He almost sounded bitter at that and it made her heart twinge. "And the one fucking time you ask me to do something, I screw it up." He let out a heavy breath and rubbed his thumb gently over her knee, keeping his eyes focused on hers, watching as the emotions played behind them.

"I love you, you know that right?" He smiled at her as his cheeks burned with embarrassment when several girls squealed with joy over his words. He really hated doing these things in public, but he had to if he wanted her to forgive him. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek, watching as her eyes shimmered with faint forgiveness as the barrier around her heart broke.

"I cried myself to sleep last night."

The words were quiet, only spoken for him, and yet they shattered his heart. His face fell and his body ached.

"Hell," he swore, suddenly reaching forward to pull her down into his arms. They fell hard and his rear hurt, but he didn't care. He held her close and tight, pressing her face into his shoulder and he buried his into her mass of hair.

"I'm so sorry," he muttered, keeping her close.

She held still for a while as he repeated the words, but slowly her heart broke down and her soul lay bare. It had hurt, it had hurt so much to be stood up; she had been hurt before in her life, had been ignored, taunted, teased, and even beaten, but nothing had hurt more than knowing that he had preferred to get drunk with a bunch of guys than spend the evening with her in a romantic celebration. It had made her feel unwanted and it had been so long since she had felt that way. It had brought back negative feelings and painful memories of the nights she had spent alone throughout her entire life, unwanted by the girls in the Gryffindor Tower and unable to spend time with Harry and Ron. She had always felt like an outsider, despite constantly being surrounded by friends, and when she had finally fallen in love with Draco, she had hope that these sensations would disappear. He had made her open up, helped her become a more sociable, amiable person, and she had finally been able to do more, be more, and feel more.

Then he had ignored her, and it had made her question everything about herself. She had buried away the negative thoughts, had hidden them away into a locked box at the back of her soul, and yet they were so easily unearthed.

But now…now he held her close, so tightly that she was consumed by his earthly, divine smell, and he whispered apologies into her ear. She felt the way her shook, felt the case digging uncomfortably into her ribs, and she couldn't help but forgive him.

Maybe she had overreacted, maybe she had let the negativity grow too much and too fast, and maybe she hadn't given him enough of a chance. She had to learn to control her emotions, to fight back her memories, and realize that not everybody was perfect. Draco would make mistakes, they would do things that would piss each other off in the future, and there would be fights. But, in the end, they would always be there for each other and that was all that mattered.

"It's okay…I overreacted," she admitted quietly, reaching up to hold him tightly. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I love you too."

He smiled brightly at her as he pulled away, grinning like an idiot. Suddenly, he thrust out the case and gestured to his necklace. "I love them, by the way."

"I was hoping you would."

It would always be like this; they would fight, they would disagree, and in the end, they would come back together, apologize, and they would try to get life back to normal once again. She knew that it wouldn't always be as easy as this, knew that one of them would do something worse in the future, but she also trusted that they would come back together once more.

They were, after all, made that way.

"Why can't you guys act like a normal couple for once? The whole school is looking at you…again," Neville groaned from his seat, stabbing his eggs with his fork. "It's almost embarrassing being near you."

The group chuckled as Hermione and Draco scrambled to their feet, cheeks a bright red as they realized that the attention of the entire school was focused on them…again.

"Neville, you're talking about Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, the world's unlikeliest couple. I don't think anything about them will ever be normal," Luna answered softly with a smile.

"Yes, well, can we at least go a month without some kind of Hermione-Malfoy thing?"

"Hopefully," Hermione chuckled, getting to her feet and nudging Ginny over so that Draco could sit with her.

Draco placed the case on the table and wriggled it in front of Harry's face. "Hey, Potter, like the reminder that I beat you?"

"Malfoy, if I had a Snitch for every time I kicked your arse, this table would be covered," Harry responded without a second glance.

"Ah, you're just jealous."

"Bugger off, Malfoy; I'm trying to enjoy my breakfast."

Draco sent him a sneer before reaching over and stealing one of Hermione's slices of toast, much to her chagrin.

Immediately, she became scolding him for getting his own food, Harry unconsciously glared at the Snitch across the table, Ginny and Luna erupted into a conversation about the Ball, while Seamus and Dean began discussing what to do during the summer. During the whole thing, Neville silently ate his breakfast, wondering just when the world turned upside down.

"Mental," he muttered, "we've all gone mental."

* * *

**Here you guys go. A nice and lengthy one. Originally, I wasn't going to make Draco stand up Hermione, but I figured that it would make things a bit more interesting than have him show, them have some romantic mushy dinner, and all that jazz. Besides, it was a bit fun to write a drunk Draco and Blaise. **

**Please let me know if there's miscellaneous information in there that doesn't make sense; I was in my class when writing (we were mostly watching clips), so there might be some random information about Japanese music from the 1970's and 1980's. Hopefully there isn't any, haha. **

**I'm sorry about the cheesiness of this chapter, I tried to avoid it as much as possible, but sometimes you can't avoid it. Besides, I think Draco was due for a nice little speech to Hermione, given that in MCMM she was the one giving him the speech. And I know she overreacted, but remember: she had always been left behind, always been ignored and put aside with regards to fun stuff; I can really relate to that, so it hurts like hell when someone you thought would never forget you actually does. **

**Anyway, please review and let me know what you think. We're almost done, just a couple more chapters. I can't promise that I will have the next up by the end of the month, though; I have 1 paper due next week, an exam the following week, and the week after I have four papers due in three days, so that will not be a pleasant experience. Plus, I have two mini essays due and another small essay. Everything is due before December, so I will have my hands full. I will do my best, though!**

**I hope you enjoyed it. **


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